Broken Promises
by James Stapleton
Summary: Finally, the mystery is coming to an end as the killer unravels the motives behind the serial murders, and the story of a never-ending revenge against a dead woman is told in its entirety. What will a person become when identity is lost?
1. Prologue: Un jour d’été

**_Foreword: _****Finally! After weeks of planning, I am starting my fifth mystery! This story will have more romance, more adventure, and less suspects for you to remember! However, this story will be a little different from the one I told you about in my previous story.**** Yes, I know. I did change my story's title from _Knowing Too Much _to _Broken Promises_. Well, there are lots of reasons behind this. There will be slight changes in the plot after I considered my readers' requests (for example: more romance, less suspects). I also made this story harder than any of the last ones (yes, I mean HARD, as in even more difficult than _Haunting Memories_!) to challenge my readers. I'll also ask who you think is the culprit in the end. If you don't feel like answering it in your review, you can always send a message to me, if you have an account at fanfiction. Anyway, here is the newest mystery. Read, enjoy, and review, please!

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**Prologue**

**_Un jour d'été_**

**One Summer Morning**

Joe Hardy dove right into the pool. With a huge splash, water around him rose up like a tidal wave and covered his brother's face with water. Frank Hardy, Joe's brother who, unlike him, had dark hair, wiped his face and took off his goggle. As Joe rose to the surface of the pool, grinning, Frank sighed and said, "Joe, you should really practice on diving."

With a mischievous grin, Joe answered, "I think my diving skill is fine, thank you very much." He then swam to the other side of the pool.

The two brothers were in the pool that their father had built for them in the backyard. Because the local pool was too crowded for them to have any fun, the two boys had asked their father for a private pool. Joe was there to practice swimming with Frank. Unlike Joe, Frank was very good at swimming, and he had won three times in the state swimming competitions. The first time, he won a bronze medal, the second time was a silver one, and finally, this year, he had won a gold trophy that he brought home with pride.

Just as the two got out of the pool, their aunt, Gertrude Hardy, got out of the house with two cups of lemonade. "I bet you're thirsty, boys," she said, handing each of them a glass. Joe felt the coolness of the glass and took a sip. "Did you make it, Aunt Trudy?" he asked, biting on the ice cube that got into his mouth as he swallowed the drink.

Gertrude giggled. "Yup, and that's my own secret recipe that I learned from my grandma. I'm glad you liked it." She took the glasses after the boys finished them, and then told them that their father wanted to see them.

"What is it, Dad?" asked Frank as the two boys arrived at their father's study. Mr. Fenton Hardy had a serious expression on his face.

"I just got a phone call from Mademoiselle Renee Frazier," he said, "and she would like to see you."

"Mud-mwa-zell Row-nay Fra-zee-ay?" Joe asked, completely confused. "Who's that?"

"It's French, Joe," Frank said. "And based on my knowledge of French television, I believe she's an actress that started her fame from the time she was twelve. Receiving countless awards, including four Academy Awards, she has been very popular worldwide. She is currently in many movie production companies and is starring in her own soap opera. Am I right?"

Mr. Hardy nodded. Joe looked at his brother with suspicion. "Frank… Since when did you have interest in soap opera?"

Frank smiled uneasily. "Oh, that. It's not me who's interested. It's Callie Shaw. She's been hooked on the show particularly and has been talking to Iola about it, remember?"

Joe thought for a moment. "I do think she said something about that."

"So what does she need from us?" Frank asked.

"To shorten the entire conversation I had with her, she needs you to go to France," answered Mr. Hardy.

"Us? France?" asked Joe. "Why does she want us to go all the way to France in the first place? Why does she need us?"

Mr. Hardy smiled. "Well, I'm proud to say that you two will be on a French television show."

"Television show?" shouted Joe in surprise. Unlike his brother, Frank was calm.

"I see," said Frank. "But why us?""

His father answered, "She said that she read about your achievements over the last month and was amazed to see how many baffling mysteries that you two have solved. She would like you to speak to the entire country during the Saturday prime time talk show." He turned to the boys. "And I do mean prime time, the time slot when there are more people watching the show than other times of the day."

"Wow!" was all Joe could say, and he looked as though he couldn't believe this.

Asked Frank, "So when are we heading to Paris?"

Mr. Hardy looked at the calendar. "I'll say in a week. So be sure to get ready. And by that I mean polish your French. You two will be staying there for one week, and I do want you to spend some time having fun. From my experience with you, I've learned that you two don't spend more than a week on a single case."

Frank nodded. "We'll do our best."

Joe, on the other hand, groaned. "I have to study? It's still summer, and my brain isn't working! Why can't we just hire a translator?"

Still complaining, Joe turned around and went back into his room. Frank, following him, exited. Mr. Frank watched as the two boys went up the stairs. Grinning, he muttered, "I can still remember myself talking like that." He then turned around and started typing on his laptop.

Iola Morton got out of her car as she parked it on the Hardys' driveway. She noticed that Frank and Joe's mother was outside watering the flowers. She smiled as she walked to the lady. "Good morning, Mrs. Hardy," she said, taking off her golden-colored straw hat and her new sunglasses. She was wearing light blue one-piece dress with white flowers. Her dress resembled the blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds in all directions. Mrs. Hardy turned around and smiled as she saw the guest.

"Well, good morning. Are you here to meet the boys?" she asked. Iola nodded. Taking out her keys, Mrs. Hardy then went to the door and unlocked it. "But be sure to keep quiet. I'm sure it's better for the boys to see you when they're spending their precious teenage hours studying French!"

"Why are they studying French?"

"They're going to France next week, and they'll be spending one week there. I'm sure they'll be pleasantly surprised when you knock on their door." She placed her index finger to her lips and winked at the young girl. Iola in return smiled and nodded. Taking off her shoes, Iola went to the stairs quietly and headed towards the boys' room.

Frank and Joe were studying French with books sprawled across the table. With their heads buried in books and notes, they mumbled to themselves the unfamiliar phrases. Frank and Joe both took French, but they managed to regain their knowledge that they lost during the time off from school.

Joe found an interesting phrase as he opened up the book _French for Dummies_. He then turned to Frank.

"Frank, do you know what 'Salut beauté' means?" he asked.

Joe's brother sighed in disbelief. "Are you actually going to say that? That means 'Hey sexy.'"

Joe chuckled. "Who knows? There might be two or three dozens of cute girls at Paris. Did you know that France has the highest percentage of young people? There ought to be some hot ones amongst that number. Maybe I can befriend a girl and we can send each other e-mails and things."

Frank looked at Joe. "What about Iola, Joe? Don't tell me you're dumping her!"

"I'm not saying that," said Joe. "I'm just saying that I might want a new girl friend to send e-mails to that I don't usually see during the school year. She might actually be pretty cute."

Just then, the door of the Hardys' room opened forcefully. Surprised, Frank looked up, and Joe turned around. To the latter's dismay, the person that stood there was his girlfriend, Iola Morton. Iola, with an enraged expression, was gripping the doorframe with her hand, and Joe could see that the hand which she grabbed the doorframe with was trembling slightly.

"You're going to France and look for a girlfriend to talk to, all without telling me first, aren't you, Joe?" said Iola.

Joe couldn't believe that the statement which he told his brother as a joke had been overheard by his girlfriend. Immediately, he shook his head. "No, I didn't actually mean what I said. It was all a jo—"

"I don't want to hear about your excuses!" shouted Iola. Joe stopped as he saw a drop of tear roll down the girl's cheek. "So go wherever you want and make as many girlfriends as you wish! I can care less about you!"

With that, Iola turned around and ran down the stairs. Joe immediately sprinted after her, but she was too fast. Even though Joe was athletic, Iola was part of girls' track team when she was in junior high. Because of it, she was faster than Joe when it came to sprinting. Within seconds, Iola got to her car and was off. Joe panted as he got to the driveway just a second after Iola drove away.

Frank looked at Joe with worried eyes as he followed them outside. Joe sighed as he turned around. "I can't believe she was there," said Joe. Mrs. Hardy looked up from the flower garden worriedly.

"Sorry, Joe. I told her to keep quiet and surprise you, but it actually surprised her, didn't it?" said Mrs. Hardy. "Come inside. I'm sure you've done plenty of studying for today. Who wants a freshly baked lemon pie?"

Joe sighed and turned around. "Count me in," he said with a sigh.

Just as the Hardy brothers went into the living room, Joe turned on the TV. Mr. Hardy was the last one to watch the TV, and he had left it on the news channel. Joe, too lazy to change the channel, watched it as he waited for his mother to get the pie from the kitchen counter.

Frank then came into the living room. He got thirsty, so he went to the kitchen to get a cup of water. When his brother was gone, Joe took the remote control and thought about changing the channel.

At that moment, the newscaster announced the news about a hit-and-run accident. Joe sat up, remembering that he had been hit by a truck when he, his brother, and two of his friends had gone to a hotel in Maine.

The friends whom he mentioned were Nancy Drew and her boyfriend Ned Nickerson. Nancy was a world-renounced girl detective, who had solved dozens of cases by herself in the time span of two years. Because of her fame, however, she had been threatened many times and nearly lost her life. But thanks to her friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne, she was able to survive.

The case that Joe remembered was called _Haunting Memories_, in which Nancy went to a hotel in Maine to solve the murder of her mother. Also, a truck hit Joe as he was chasing the pickpocket and nearly lost his life. His being hit by a truck actually spurred Nancy to remember what had really happened to her mother as more and more pieces of the puzzle fit into a picture. And as the picture was competed, Nancy and Frank were able to reveal the truths behind the impossible crimes that had happened at the hotel.

Joe leaned forward as the newscaster took his papers and read the news aloud.

"Three weeks ago, at a hiking route of Peaklodge Mountain, forty-year-old Audrey Jensen was hit by a black car as she was hiking. Apparently, the car did not stop after the woman was hit, and the police are gathering clues to solve the case. There were no witnesses to the accident, and…"

"Hey, Joe. Do you want me to get a drink…?" asked Frank as he came out of the kitchen with a cup of water, but he stopped as he saw Joe focusing on the news. Frank then went to the chair right next to his brother and watched the news.

"…the police is still searching for the driver. If you have any information regarding this, please contact the police at…"

After the telephone number was given, the commercials began. Joe turned to Frank and said, "Oh yeah. Can you get me something to drink?"

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_**Postscript: **_**I'm sure some of you found that the chapter title is weird. Well, since this is the first international mystery that I've ever written, I'm making my subtitles French! Anyway, I'll try to update every week or every two weeks, so be sure to come back and see if I loaded a new chapter up yet!**

**As you might have read, I'm adding Iola into my story this time! Joe only meant to say a "girl friend" to talk to, but Iola mistakenly thought that he said he wanted a new "girlfriend"! What will happen to those two? Will their relationship be over? Read more to find out! **


	2. L'orage farouche

**_Foreword: _Bonjour, tout le monde! (That menas "Hello, everybody," by the way.) Here is the second chapter of the story, and I'm glad to announce that I have the entire mystery carefully planned out now! Now all I need to do is write the seventeen to twenty chapters' worth of details and twists to complete the story. :-)**

**Anyway, I'm really disappointed with all the spinoff series that branched out of the original series. The _Hardy Boys Casefiles_ is very annoying because the authors kill off Iola and make Joe date a newer character Vanessa, and in the _Hardy Boys Undercover Brothers_, Callie and Iola doesn't even appear at all! And in the _Nancy Drew Girl Detective_, Bess and George have _brothers_! And don't get me started on _Nancy Drew On Campus_, which I consider to be total waste of my time when I started reading it. To me, all these new settings are seriously ruining the impression on those detectives. I think the only acceptable series are the _Nancy Drew Files_ and the _Supermysteries_. (By the way, you might have realized that my series is the mix of those two series. I consider them just right for teenage readers who are bored with the other series.) What do you think about all these new series? I'd love to hear from you about your opinions in your review, or in your message that you send me.**

**Okay, I guess you don't want to hear me talk, so here is the newest chapter, and the perspective shifts from Frank and Joe to Nancy and her friends. The setting is similar to the classical series in which the story used to start on a deserted mountain path during a storm. (For example: Twisted Candles, Old Clock, etc.) I'm going to include only eight new characters into the story, and I advise you to note their discriptions and jobs on a sheet of paper or on a Word document so you can refresh your mind when reading the new chapter. I know, after a whole week, it's hard to remember all those minor details. I myself hate those mysteries with a million suspects and only a handful of clues. :-)**

**I hope you'll enjoy reading this chapter and continue supporting my story by reviewing. I'm really grateful for all these reviews I'm getting, by the way. Thanks for taking your time and writing a few words regarding your opinions.**

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Chapter One**

**_L'orage farouche_**

** The Violent Storm**

"It's going to rain," said eighteen-year-old brunette George Fayne as she looked out the window of Nancy Drew's blue convertible.

"I hope it'll stop soon," Bess Marvin, a plump blond girl, added with a worried look on her face.

"It's not _that_ bad," commented Nancy Drew, who drove the blue convertible. She had wavy titian-colored shoulder-length hair that swayed as the car drove through the dirt path in the forest twenty miles from the town of River Heights, which was the hometown of Nancy and her friends.

Bess looked at her watch. "Well, it's six o'clock already. And people say that when it rains, it pours."

"Stop talking like an old lady, Bess," George commented, turning around to face her cousin. Even though George Fayne was a girl, her boyish attitude gave her a nickname George, which was fairly close to her real name, which was Georgina. "Are we there yet, Nancy?" she asked as she turned around again to face Nancy, the driver.

"And you should stop talking like a little child, George," Bess added with a grin.

"And you should stop teasing like a toddler," George returned.

"You both should stop making fun of each other. Just act like normal eighteen-year-olds, okay?" asked Nancy Drew. "But then, I still like you guys making fun of each other than arguing over where to go for Saturday afternoon. Remember last time when George insisted on going to the tennis court when Bess insisted on going to the new hair salon?"

Bess giggled. "That was George's fault for not being interested in having a new hair style. George should serious consider getting a new one. I think the hairstyle now is…too tomboyish."

George sighed. "And what can you do with my short hair, Bess? It's nice that you made your hair curly and all, but my hair is unfixable. And don't remind me of the time we played around with each other's hair when we were in grade school. I still remember you putting pink ribbons all over my head and made my hair all curly. Blech!"

Nancy looked at the map which she held in her left hand. "I hope we aren't lost," she said. "I don't like driving in a forest road during a storm. We might seriously get lost."

The three girls were heading to a mansion owned by one of her father's clients to get a certain file that Mr. Drew needed for the upcoming trial. Nancy willingly agreed to go.

"By the way, Nancy," asked George, "what did the e-mail from Helen say?"

"Oh, that," Nancy said as she remembered. The girl detective remembered the time when she and Helen used to solve mysteries. However, after she married Jim Archer, the couple moved to Europe, and Nancy hadn't heard from them ever since _The Clue in the Jewel Box_. But just yesterday, when Nancy solved her most recent case with the Hardy brothers, which she called _Haunting Memories_, she got an e-mail from Helen.

She took out her cell phone and turned it on. "Here. Read it."

George took the cell phone from Nancy and went to the saved e-mail page. She then clicked on the newest e-mail which was from Helen and opened it.

"Dear Nancy,

"Jim and I are very happy because we finally moved to France, the country which I've been dreaming of living in ever since I was a little girl! And I also miss you, George, and Bess very terribly. If possible, will you come to our new home and stay for one week? I'll be glad to show you all the wonderful places in France! If you'd like to come, just give us a call. I'll send you the tickets right away! Oh, and don't worry about the fees. Jim just won three tickets to anywhere in the world when he answered a survey on the Internet. Anyway, give me a call ASAP, okay? I'll be waiting for your reply.

"Your friend,

"Helen Corning Archer."

George then smiled. "So are you going or not?" she asked. "Bess and I don't mind. Do we, Bess?"

"Of course not!" answered Bess. "I've always wanted to go to France! What can be more romantic than Paris?"

Nancy smiled. "I'm planning to go, of course. But first, we must get to Mr. Doyle's house to get that file which Dad was talking about."

The weather turned out to be worse than the girls thought. Raindrops suddenly fell heavier, and the sky became darker and darker. A minute later, the girls heard thunder and saw a lightning strike just a few miles ahead of them. Bess couldn't help but scream as the sound of thunder reached her ears.

"It's just a thunder, Bess," said George.

The recent mystery Nancy solved was quite challenging and involved many separate mysteries that looked like they weren't connected but actually shared a stunning connection in the end. During the mystery, Nancy found out more about her mother than ever before, and it was one of the most difficult cases that she had ever solved. But because she got help from Frank, Joe, Callie, and Ned, she was able to bring the criminals to justice.

"You know, I think I still smell like the stable," said George.

Grinning, Bess told her cousin, "I hope you're still considering my perfume, George. If you think you smell bad, cover the odor up with some perfume!"

George pretended to gag as she heard the word "perfume." She then told Bess, "Smelling like the horses is better than smelling like an artificial deodorizer."

Nancy snickered. "True, Bess. Perfumes these days don't even include natural ingredients anymore. Most of them are artificial."

Bess took one of her perfumes out and sprayed it on her wrist. Then, she smelled it. "Mmm… Even though it might be artificial, I still like it. And it smells like tropical punch! Pretty nice for something that I bought at the clearance section of the store. Oh, and speaking of clearance," she said and turned to George, pulling her shirt up slightly, "do you think this new belt that I bought at a clearance store fits me?"

George looked at it. The belt had a gilded ring in the middle with many colorful flowers sewn onto the outer part of the leather belt. "That's pretty nice for something that you got for a fraction of its retail price."

Bess grinned. "An this golden ring has the inscription on it, saying 'Gurlz' with the spelling G-U-R-L-Z. That's unique, isn't it?"

George nodded as she opened the window. "Are we there yet, Nancy?" she asked, looking out the window. Suddenly, her eyes got wide.

Nancy, still keeping her eyes on the road, answered, "I think we should be there in five minutes…"

"Wow!" shouted George. "That's one large mansion!"

"Where?" asked Bess, looking out the window as well.

Nancy turned her head to the direction in which George was looking at and saw a large mansion standing firmly on a hill. Its roof was blue, and the walls were white. However, in the middle of a storm, it was more like a haunted mansion than anything else, with its flags swaying eerily on its roof. This scene was like a snippet from a horror movie, with every element present to match the atmosphere.

Bess shuddered. "It's eerie," she muttered, looking nervous and sounding scared.

"I just hope it's not another ghost story," said Nancy. "I'm honestly bored with those things. After the last case, I know that there is no such thing as a ghost."

Five minutes later, the detectives arrived at the mansion of Gregory Doyle. The gates were open, and atop each of the pillar to which the gates were hinged on was a statue of a gargoyle.

Bess screamed as she saw the hideous image peering into the visitors, and Nancy realized how lifelike the statues were. Its eyes were as cold as the marbles that they were made of, and the entire premise looked even eerier with the addition of this unique decoration.

"I see it," said George. Nancy turned to her friend. "The name of the owner is Gregory Doyle, right? The last name rhymes with gargoyle, and the first name starts with a G. Wow, what a perfect statue to put on the pillars to decorate this place!"

The girls then went into a parking lot, where only one car was parked. After getting out of their car, the girls each opened up an umbrella and entered the garden.

To Nancy's surprise, the garden was perfectly symmetrical. There were exactly twelve roses on the right side and twelve roses on the left side. Also, there were ten violets on each side. Walking through the vast garden, the girls saw a magnificent fountain located in the center of the garden. On the fountain, there was a statue of a woman wearing a dress and holding a rose in one hand and a violet in the other.

"This," Nancy suddenly realized, "is Mrs. Doyle!"

George nodded. "So Mr. Doyle wanted to leave the image of his wife for a long time. How romantic." She said the last word with sarcasm. Then, she looked at the mansion. "Well, let's go in before we all get wet."

The girls then started heading towards the mansion. After getting to the mansion, the girls found that the front door was open. Nancy immediately knew that something was wrong. She opened the door, and the first thing they saw was Mr. Doyle lying on the ground with a pool of red liquid around him.

The liquid was blood.

And the next thing they saw was the man in black jacket and black pants. He had black gloves on and covered his face with a black mask. In his hand was a knife, covered with blood.

Bess screamed as she saw the horrendous sight. Nancy and George couldn't say a word.

The man then pointed the knife in the girls' direction. Nancy and George immediately ran towards him to get the knife away from him. However, the man in black dodged the girls and ran towards the door, and right in front of the door was Bess!

Bess, however, couldn't move because of fear. As she stood there, the attacker ran into her with his knife outstretched.

Nancy immediately turned around.

"Run!" she shouted.

Nancy dashed towards Bess as the girl stood there with the expression of sheer horror on her face.

George also turned around, astounded.

Bess opened her mouth and let out a scream as the attacker approached.

Everything seemed to move in a slow motion.

Nancy only saw the back of the man in black, but she could hear her friend scream in horror.

Then, the attacker turned to the right and ran toward the parking lot.

As he did so, Nancy saw the knife.

With an eerie glitter from reflecting the sun, the knife was then pushed into Bess's stomach.

Bess stopped screaming.

Nancy couldn't believe what she saw. Could it be? Was Bess really stabbed? Her fear came true when Bess fell backward on the ground as the attacker ran past her.

"Bess!"

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**_Postscript: _Gasp! What will happen to Bess? Will she be okay? Read the next chapter to find out. Oh, and please don't forget to review!**


	3. La nouvelle ouverture

**_Foreword: _Here's the newest chapter! I first thought of going to the Hardys in this chapter, but decided against it, since my readers would be anxious to read about what happened to Bess. So here is the second part of Nancy's adventure. The next chapter will be about Frank and Joe, so be prepared to wait a little longer to find out what happens after this chapter. Anyway, you should also be prepared to wait for a long time for the conclusion to come, since I'm planning to make this story as long as or even longer than _Haunting Memories_! I'm thinking about twenty to twenty-five chapters, but that depends on how much information and details I want to put into the story. I decided to introduce one character early in this chapter, so you can familiarize with him/her. And don't forget to keep a list of characters, since there will be seven new characters altogether.  
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**Please read, enjoy, and **_**review!

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**Chapter Two**

_**La nouvelle ouverture**_

**The New Beginning**

"He won't get away!" Nancy muttered angrily as she ran after him. She ran just a little faster than him, so she caught his jacket as he was preparing to get into the car.

However, the man kicked Nancy's hand away and shut the door. Turning the ignition on, the man in black then drove with furious speed into the muddy path. Nancy got up as the car screeched as it went past the gargoyle gate. The statues of gargoyles just stared blankly at the car, never opening its wings to fly and seize the man.

Standing up, Nancy suddenly realized that she was holding a sheet of paper. "It must have fallen off that man's coat as he kicked me away," she muttered. She started reading it. " '_Je vais t'appeler à trois heures de l'après-midi._' This is in French! Let's see… 'I will call you at three o'clock in the afternoon.'"

She then heard George running after her. "How was it? Did he get away?" the brunette asked. Nancy and George stopped to check if Bess was bleeding badly. Nancy then saw Bess open her eyes with an expression of sheer surprise.

"I…I don't feel it," muttered Bess.

"But you were stabbed!" shouted George. "How can you not feel it?" George then took Bess's shirt and pulled it upward to check the wound. There was none.

"It must be the belt," Bess said happily as she put her hand on the belt of her jeans. "See? The metal part of it stopped the knife from going any further."

Nancy and George sighed in relief. "I'm so glad you bought that

Nancy nodded. "Did you call the police and the ambulance?"

"Yeah. Bess is calling them right now. It seems that Mr. Doyle is still alive!"

Grateful, Nancy asked, "So how is he? Is he conscious?"

George shook her head. "No. He's still breathing, but he's not awake yet. Do you think we should drive to the nearest hospital instead of waiting for the ambulance to come?"

"Yes. I think so. Tell Bess that we'll be heading to Titusville. That's just over that mountain, so it's about ten miles. It won't even take fifteen minutes. Now hurry!" George nodded and turned around. Nancy followed, and with her friends she carried the injured man into the convertible. Then, she called the police.

After taking the quickest route out of the forest, the girls immediately headed to the nearby hospital.

The girls were waiting in the corridor outside the emergency room when Nancy's cell phone rang. She answered it. It was her father.

"Dad! You won't believe what happened!" she said.

"I can believe anything after seeing you get into all kinds of mysteries and accidents for the last two years," Mr. Drew joked. However, Nancy could hear that he knew something was wrong. "So tell me what happened."

"Well, George, Bess, and I went to Mr. Doyle's house, but when we entered, we found a burglar in his house! And Mr. Doyle has been stabbed with a knife!"

Mr. Drew was obviously shocked. "So how were you and your friends, Nancy?" he asked, raising his voice.

"We dodged that man in time. But we couldn't even tell if he was a man or a woman. Anyway, I found an important clue that may help us solve the mystery or at least let us look for a lead. It's a piece of paper saying in French: 'I will call you at three o'clock in the afternoon.' And I'm sure the burglar didn't mean to drop it."

"Hmm… Do you suppose it was written in French because the burglar was French? Or do you think he was using it as a code?" asked Mr. Drew.

Nancy thought for a moment. "Not really. I do think that this is an important clue that we cannot afford to overlook. But it's not the best clue, unfortunately. Oh, and speaking of French, I got an e-mail from Helen Corning, who is now Helen Archer."

Mr. Drew chuckled. "Oh, her! I remember Helen. She was the girl who is a little older than you, isn't she?"

Nancy nodded. "Yup, and she was married a few years ago, and she and her husband moved to Europe."

"I see. I remember the time she and you were little kids selling girl scout cookies. Why, I was nearly forced to buy five boxes of that one time."

Nancy grinned. "No, Dad. If I remember right, you ordered five boxes because you and your clients were hooked on them! I must admit, those cookies _were_ pretty good."

"Anyway," said Mr. Drew, "come home as soon as possible, Nancy. You can also bring your friends, since I'm thinking that we should have a barbecue tonight."

Nancy said okay and hung up. When she closed her cell phone, she saw a surgeon exiting the emergency room. She immediately went to talk to him.

"Excuse me, but how is Mr. Doyle?" asked Nancy.

"Oh, he's going to be okay," answered the surgeon with a grin. "But he won't be conscious for a few more days, so you might want to come back either tomorrow or the day after that to see him. Are you a relative of his?"

"No, he is a client of my father's, and I happened to be visiting him when the burglar entered the house."

"I see…"

Suddenly, another surgeon came out of the room. "Dr. Thompson," said the surgeon, "we need you in here as soon as possible."

"I'll be there." Then, turning to Nancy and her friends, he smiled and went into the operation room again.

Nancy and her friends decided to go back to the mansion to see how the police were doing with the evidence collecting. When they got there, there were five or six police cars and about a dozen policemen.

"Are you the witnesses?" one officer asked them. Nancy nodded. "Then have you seen the face of the attacker?"

"No," Bess said. "But I got close enough to see his locket."

"Locket?" asked George. "Did he have a locket on?"

Bess nodded. "It was pretty weird-looking. The locket was circular, with the inscription in French: 'Jusqu'à ce que la mort...' Unfortunately, that was the only thing I saw. There were more to it than that, but…"

" 'Jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare,'" said a voice from behind. Surprised, the girls turned around. There was a middle-aged man with silver-blond hair standing there. With a grin, he bowed to the girls. He looked like a perfect example of an old-fashioned gentleman, with the formal outfit and a fancy chapeau. "That is what you saw, oui?"

To the girls' surprise, the man had a thick French accent in his voice, but he talked with fluency. It was obvious that he stayed in an English-speaking country for more than a few years.

"Y…Yes," said Bess. "And you are…?"

"Oh, my apologies," the man said. "Je m'appelles Nicholas Devereux. I am a professor at Emerson College."

"Emerson?" asked Nancy.

"_Oui._ Emerson. I teach French and spend my spare time studying mythologies from around the world. Say, do you happen to go there, Mademoiselle…?"

"Drew," said Nancy. "Nancy Drew. These are Bess Marvin and George Fayne. Well, no, I don't go there, but my boyfriend does, so I was quite surprised."

Mr. Devereux smiled. "I see. By the way, do you know Monsieur Doyle?"

Nancy shook her head. "Personally, no. He is one of my father's clients, and I just happened to stop by his mansion to fetch some materials from him that my father needs in the court. Do you know him, Mr. Devereux?"

The gentleman nodded. "I am his friend since he came to France to study many years ago. I was planning to drop by and say hello to my old friend, but it seems like I have to wait now. What did the doctor say about him?" he asked.

"The doctor said that he will be fine, but he won't wake up for a few days. That's why we came back here to investigate this case," answered Bess.

"Investigate?" asked Mr. Devereux.

"Yeah. Nancy here is a world-renowned detective that has solved dozens of mysteries," said George. She then added, "In fact, it seems like mystery always find here wherever she goes!"

Mr. Devereux laughed out loud. "Oh, yes! I remember reading about you! It seems like you've been on a case recently, _n'est-ce pas_?"

Before Nancy could answer, Mr. Devereux suddenly gasped and looked at his watch. "_Zut! _It's time for me to go. I have to attend a meeting at Emerson today. _Au revoir, mademoiselles!_"

"By the way, don't we have to do some investigation?" asked Bess, as Mr. Devereux was gone. Nancy nodded, and the girls then went inside the mansion. Chief McGinnis was there, and he grumbled as Nancy approached.

"You again," he murmured. "The famous little girl detective!"

Nancy never liked that man, but she smiled as she talked to him. "Well, we three are the ones who witnessed the attack. And we'd like to look for a specific document that my father told me to retrieve."

"You can do whatever you want," said the chief. "But if I find your fingerprints on any of the evidences…"

"You won't," answered Nancy. "We have our gloves with us. That way, we don't leave a mark. Is it all right, then?"

Chief McGinnis grumbled again as he went away. Nancy knew that it meant yes.

"So where should we look?" asked Bess.

"First things first," answered Nancy. "Let's go to the scene of the crime."

The three girls went to the spot where the victim lay a while ago. The blood smeared on the carpet, and it made a dark stain on the velvet-colored floor. Nancy looked at the objects that lay around the puddle.

Nancy asked, "What do you think the thief was trying to steal?"

"I don't know. Maybe some jewels or cash," guessed George.

"I don't know what was in it, but I saw a manila envelope when the thief was getting into his car. I think it might have a connection with the case which my father's been working on. He said that he needed the file for the court, but he actually hadn't finished investigating yet. I'm sure the file contained something important that has to do with the case." Taking out her cell phone, Nancy dialed her father's cell phone. "I just hope he'll answer."

Mr. Drew did answer the phone. When Nancy asked, her father answered with a sigh. "Well, the case involves a bank robbery. To tell the truth, not even I know what was in that folder. Mr. Doyle came to me one day and said that he wanted me to investigate the bank robbery. Of course, I told him to find a private investigator, but he said that he could only trust me, since the last investigator that he called turned out to be a conman."

Nancy giggled. "Okay, I guess I understand why he doesn't trust detectives. So what was the bank robbery about?"

"Let's see… It was the one in River Heights Bank that happened ten years ago. The bank robbers stole approximately three hundred thousand dollars, but the case is still unsolved. And because of the New Jersey law, the statute of limitations set for a robbery is ten years, so if we don't find the robbers soon, then we will never be able to persecute him or her, even if we find tons of evidence against that robber. That's why Mr. Doyle wanted my help."

"I see… But why is he so passionate about the robbery?"

"I don't see why not. He was the owner of the bank back then. It's out of business now, however," said Mr. Drew. "But he managed to build a company on his own, and he had been having more than enough money to buy himself a mansion with a huge garden and millions' worth of paintings and sculptures."

Nancy nodded. "Okay. I'll try to find that file if I can, but my guess is that it was stolen by the robber."

"That's too bad," said Mr. Drew. "The file contained evidences that Mr. Doyle had been able to collect about the robbery. For some reason, after going to France four years ago, he met a person whom he knew was the robber. But he didn't tell who that was to me and just told me to get the file from him. And because Mr. Doyle is unconscious right now, we won't be able to find that out from him."

As Mr. Drew hung up, Nancy sighed and said to her friends, "I guess the only thing we know is that the possibility of the robber and attacker being French is quite high… French?"

George gasped. "Do you think Mr. Devereux is the robber!"

"I don't know," answered Nancy. "But it won't hurt to go visit him." She then added to herself, "I hope."

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_**Postscript: **_**The next chapter will focus entirely on Frank and Joe, and the part where Nancy and her friends visit the French professor will be in Chapter Four.**

**You might be wondering, "When are they going to head to France?" Well, I'll tell you that it's very soon, so don't get anxious. I'll be giving plenty of clues and background info in the first five to six chapters before the main characters go to France. Well, I hope you liked this chapter. Please write a few words in your review if you have time. Thanks for reading!**

**P.S. The words that I _italicized _are French. If you don't know what they mean, read the entire sentence and infer what it means or look up online by typing in "French-English Dictionary" in the Google search engine. I hope you'll be interested in French by the time you finish this story! ;-)**


	4. Il y a dix ans…

**_Foreword: _Here is the fourth chapter. In this chapter, Joe's tragic past will be revealed. He will remember about the girl whom he fell in love with ten years ago. Also, for those of you who are anxious about what will happen between Iola and Joe, here is the answer. But don't just believe what is written here, since there will be more twists in the story. But for now, please enjoy the chapter.**

**As you might have figured out, I'm shifting from Nancy to Frank and Joe in this chapter. Also, there will be another new character added into the story. Because he/she will be on the list of suspects, never believe that he/she is completely innocent until proven so. In other words, don't just believe that a person is not the culprit based on what they say or what they do. This will help you very much when trying to figure out who the bad guy is in this mystery.  
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**That's all I'm going to say for now. Read, enjoy, and please _review_!  
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**Chapter Three**

**_Il y a dix ans…_**

**Ten Years Ago…**

Frank Hardy yawned as he looked at his watch. He then turned to Joe, who was sitting next to him in the passenger's seat. "Joe, did you finish reciting yet?" he asked.

"I need to make this perfect," said Joe. "Besides, I don't want her to be mad at me for no reason. I didn't even say that I wanted a new girlfriend. I just said I wanted a friend that's a girl to talk to." Joe then turned around and sighed. "Women are always like this; they never look at a guy's side of the story."

Frank snickered. "And you look from a girl's perspective, also? I doubt that."

Joe then took the bouquet of flowers that he had bought from the nearby store. He looked at the assortment of flowers. There were pink ones and yellow ones arranged in perfect symmetry. There were also small, white flowers that occasionally went in between a pink flower and the yellow flower. However, the flower that was at the center of attention was at the center of the flowers. The largest flower was the red rose that was in the middle of the bouquet as if wanting all the attention from those who held it.

Joe sat there for a few minutes smelling the flowers and observing their beauty. Then, he suddenly remembered the even that happened long ago…

_Iola Norton wasn't the one whom he first had a crush on. It was another girl, named Diana Windham. Diana was in his class when he was in Bayport Elementary School and used to sit by him. For the first three years of grade school, the two were best friends. They played together and ate lunch together every school day. Because of that, some of his friends called them a couple and teased them quite a bit._

_Diana and Joe never minded, though. They used to discuss what they wanted to be when they were all grown up. Diana said she wanted to be a schoolteacher, and Joe said he wanted to be a detective._

_"Detective?" Diana asked one day when they were in first grade. "Why do you want to be that? Isn't it dangerous?"_

_Joe smiled. "Sure, it might be. But I like busting criminals and catching bad guys, just like Superman, Batman, and Spiderman. I don't have any of the powers or gadgets that they have, but I have my willpower and brains. I don't need superpowers or cool machines to catch crimes. I'll use my head and skill to put the bad guys in jail."_

_Diana sat there without a word. Joe looked at her to see if she was surprised. But she wasn't. She was smiling._

_"You're going to be a great detective, Joe," she said. "And I'll try my hardest to become a schoolteacher."_

_Joe smiled. He then thought of something. "Say, let's make a promise," he said. "I'll try my hardest and will be a detective. And you should try your hardest to become a schoolteacher. By the time we are adults, we should see which of us kept our promise. How does that sound?"_

_The brown-haired girl looked at Joe in surprise, but she nodded with an even broader smile. "Promise!" she said. "And let's make that someday today ten years later!"_

_Joe nodded. "Okay!"_

_But Joe never talked to her again since when they were in third grade. When May came, Diana suddenly moved away. She never told him where. She never even told him why. All she did was tell him that she was moving away and that she always liked him._

_"But where are you going?" asked Joe. "Why are you leaving so soon?"_

_Diana seemed to be trying hard not to cry. And so was Joe. "I…I'm sorry, Joe. I can't say much on the phone…"_

_"But what about the promises?" asked Joe. By now, he was shouting. Frank and Mrs. Hardy came into the room concerned, but Joe didn't care. He kept shouting at the phone. "Please tell me, Diana! I like you! Please don't hang up!"_

_"I…I must go now, Joe," said Diana. She couldn't help herself anymore, and she burst into tears. "Goodbye, Joe. Take care."_

_That was the last thing Joe heard from Diana._

_Joe cried for a few days after the sudden farewell from the girl whom he liked very much. He never thought she would leave without a proper explanation._

_He and Iola were then in the same class the following school year. At first, Joe never thought she was very interesting. She was cuter than Diana, but he didn't get to talk to her as much. He also thought she was just a normal kid in the school._

_But when the talent show came, Joe was quite surprised to hear that Iola was going to be in it. When her turn came, Iola went up to the stage with a short pink dress and a microphone. She then started singing a song of her favorite singer. Joe was very surprised to hear her voice. It was so charming he immediately thought that she was special._

_When the show was over, Joe went to see Iola. As he and Iola met, the girl smiled and asked, "Did you like my singing?"_

_Joe blushed and said, "Yeah. That was really nice. Um… What do you want to be when you grow up?"_

_Iola seemed surprised at first, but she then giggled. "Of course I want to be a singer, silly!" she said. "I want to be the world's most famous singer that travels across the world singing and letting the world hear my voice. That's my dream."_

Joe suddenly snapped out of his flashback when Frank shook his shoulder. "Joe, are you still there? Come back to earth, okay?"

Joe shook his head to clear his mind, then nodded. "I should get going." With that, he exited the car.

Frank watched as Joe went to ring the doorbell and smiled. "Go get her, bro!" he muttered as he saw the door open.

"Oh, Joe, it's you," said Iola as she found out who the visitor was. "What do you want?"

Joe smiled. "It's just…" He then took the bouquet from behind him. "Here. I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to say what I said."

Iola looked at the bouquet, and then at Joe. She smiled. "Wow, thanks. That's a nice bouquet." Taking the flowers from Joe's hand, she put them into the vase that she placed on the piano. "Do you want to come in? I was planning to bring it to you, but I guess you can have it now." She then noticed Frank that was in the car. Smiling, she waved for Frank to come in.

When the two brothers were in the house, Iola closed the door and said, "Go to my kitchen," she said. "I'll get some water for these flowers."

The boys went to the kitchen, and they were surprised to find a pie in the middle of the dining table. "Iola," Joe called. "Is this…"

Iola came into the room with the vase of flowers and smiled. "Yup, I was baking that for you. I was planning to bring that to your house, but I guess it's okay as long as you two eat them. Here, sit down." She pointed to the chairs. "And I'll get some drinks for you. What do you want?"

"Lemonade," answered Joe.

"I'll have some iced tea," said Frank. "If you have it, that is."

"Of course," said Iola, heading towards the refrigerator. "My mom loves tea."

"By the way, where's your brother?" asked Frank.

Iola looked at the clock. "I think he'll be back soon. He went fishing, so I think he'll be back soon."

The two boys then ate their slices of pie. To Joe's delight, it was apple pie, which was his favorite. After the two finished eating, Iola asked, "Are you two really going to France, then?"

Frank and Joe nodded. Frank said, "We've been invited to go on a TV talk show featuring crime solvers from around the world, including the famous detective Clement Charlock."

"I've heard the name before," said Iola. "Isn't he the one who solved the infamous 'Black Mansion Murders'? I read that he found the way the killer could have escaped from a perfectly sealed room without a single guard witnessing his escape. I think he's the most amazing detective ever!"

Joe grinned. "If you want, I can get an autograph from him for you."

"It's okay," said Iola. "I can go see him myself."

Joe seemed surprised. "What do you mean? Are you saying that you're going to fly to France just to see him?"

Iola chuckled. "Of course not! I'm going to be in France for two weeks staying in my friend's house. Because she just moved to France, she needs to have some people to talk over, so she invited me. I'm planning to have as much fun as possible while I'm there!"

Frank seemed surprised. "Wow, so you're going to be in France, too? Can you speak French?"

Iola answered, "A little. I took French for three years, so I think I can understand most of what they'll be saying. Besides, those French people will be able to speak English, anyway. I'll just ask them if they know English before I go using my funnily-accented French."

"That's quite a coincidence," mused Frank. "There must be something special between you two."

"Stop teasing, Frank," Joe said, blushing slightly.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Iola stood up and went to the door. "I'm guessing it's Chet," she said as she stood up.

"I'll go with you," said Joe.

But as Iola opened the door, she found that it wasn't. A tall man who seemed to be in his forties stood there. He had a hard expression on his face, and he seemed to glare at everything he saw.

"Whoa, who is this guy?" thought Joe, but he immediately saw that he wasn't a bad person when the man smiled as soon as he saw Iola.

"Hello, my little pudding!" he said as he hugged the girl.

Giggling, Iola pushed him away and said, "Stop it, Uncle Serge! I'm not seven anymore. I'm seven_teen_ now!"

The man whom Iola called Uncle Serge laughed out loud. "Time sure passes quickly, doesn't it? Why, the last time I saw you, you were just a little girl with extraordinary eyes that seemed to glitter all day!"

Iola stopped giggling and introduced Joe to Uncle Serge. "This is my boyfriend," she said. And to Joe, she said, "This is Uncle Serge. Well, he's not exactly my uncle, but he and my father were close friends ever since they got into the same college. I called him Uncle Serge since the time I could talk!"

The man looked at Joe with smiling eyes. "So this is the guy you were talking about in almost every letter that you sent me, then? Well, he sure looks like me when I was little," he said.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention," added Iola. "Uncle Serge's name is Serge Beauchamp. He owns a big pastry shop called Croissant Pâtisserie in Paris. In fact, I'm about to visit there to order some of his magnificent desserts."

"But why are you here in the US?" asked Joe.

"I was just coming to discuss about making a chain store here in United States. I was just coming back to my hotel when I realized that my pud—I mean, Iola's—house was in the same direction. So I thought of visiting here." He then turned to Iola. "And I've heard that you're coming to France, right?"

Iola nodded. "I'm going to stay there for a couple of weeks. In fact, Frank—Joe's brother—and Joe are going to come, too."

"That's very nice," said Mr. Beauchamp. "Oh, I have to go now. See you in France!"

As the taxi in which the man came in drove away, Iola turned to Joe and asked, "So you aren't going to France to make new girlfriends?"

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_**Postscript:**_ **Did you enjoy the chapter? As I said before, don't just believe that Joe and Iola are okay now, since I'm going to add a handful of twists in this story to make it more of a romantic story.**

**P.S. I know that the ending of each chapter is not much of a cliffhanger. The reason I can't add many cliffhangers is because I'm shifting viewpoint between Nancy and the Hardys many times. But I'm glad to say that once they are in Paris, there will be many, many thrilling cliffhangers for you to enjoy. Some involve physical danger while others involve twists in relationship... You'll just have to wait and see:-)  
**

**P.P.S. I've finally decided what I should write for the next story. As you might have known, my previous story focused on mystery. This story will focus on romance. And the next story...action, of course! The next story will be filled with breath-taking actions, but you won't know what it'll be about till the last chapter of this story. But be sure to keep reviewing and telling me what you think about this story so far. Who knows? I might add a character, include more romance, or even change some parts in the plot!**


	5. Coïncidence à Paris

**_Foreword: _I finally have some free time to upload this episode! Anyway, last Friday was too busy for me, and I didn't get to even touch a computer! But now, I have enough time to upload a new chapter _and _to write a lengthy foreword and postscript to go with it! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much as you enjoyed the previous ones.**

** What I'm concerned about is the pace of this story. Because I was switching from a perspective to the other, I couldn't add much of a cliffhanger at all (well, except for Bess's being stabbed, but that's different). But once the setting changes from the United States to the beautiful country of France, the pace will go A LOT faster and the cliffhangers will make you want to scream for the next chapter. I hope you don't, but that happens sometimes, at least with me :-) So, from this chapter, the pace will go so fast you won't be able to breathe until the mystery is all over!**

**Also, even though I've never been to France and never will for a while, I'm planning to add as much information about the place and architecture as possible, so my readers will feel like they are really in France. But I might make up stuff once in a while, so don't think that _all _the information I give you is true.**

**So here it is, the chapter in which Nancy, Bess, and George will go to Emerson College to talk to the strange French professor. Is he hiding more than he is telling? You'll find out. Please read, enjoy, and review! (Don't worry, the "Submit a Review" button isn't going to bite you! Just a word or two about my novel is all I want.)**

**Happy reading!**

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**Chapter Four**

_Coïncidence à Paris_

**Coincidence at Paris**

Nancy parked her car in the large parking lot that faced the north entrance of the Emerson College. She and her two friends then got out of the convertible and walked to the entrance. From there they got into the building.

The place was unusually quiet. The last time Nancy had visited the place was when she went to see Ned just a few months ago, but now, because the school year was over, there was nobody roaming around the halls or the classrooms. To the girls, the place seemed like a ghost town. As Nancy went to the counter to ask for directions to go to the conference rooms, she saw nobody there.

"I guess that person whom we talked to earlier just finished her shift," sighed George.

"Oh, well. Let's get going," said Nancy.

The three girls studied the map of the college and jotted down directions to get to the conference rooms. Just then, a hand grasped Nancy's shoulder. Immediately, Nancy turned around and prepared to fight the attacker, but the person that had grabbed her shoulder was her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson.

"Oh, don't scare me like that, Ned!" said Nancy, a little surprised and happy to see her boyfriend. "What are you doing here?"

Ned grinned. "I thought it might be nice to give the famous girl detective a little scare once in a while. I just came here to pick up something that I forgot in the classroom that I need for the trip next week. But what I want to know is what _you_ are doing here at this time of the year."

"We came here to speak to Mr. Devereux," answered Bess.

"Devereux?" asked Ned. "You mean, _Dr._ Devereux?"

"Yeah. Him," said George.

Ned thought for a minute, then seemed to find the answer. "I know him," he said. "He teaches French here. Also, He has a Ph.D. in Folklore and Mythology."

"Yup, that's him," said Nancy. "But how do you know that he has a Ph.D. in mythology?"

Ned grinned slightly as he said, "That's because Dave Evans has him as teacher."

"Dave Evans?" asked Bess, excited. "Really? He studies French?"

The guy nodded. "He says the professor is pretty humorous most of the times and is very easy to befriend. He also told me how he got an A in the class when he was sleeping in the class for most of the time he was there."

"Wow," muttered George. "Either he's really smart or the teacher's a total ditz."

"Or the tests were easy," added Bess. "Anyway, do you know where the conference rooms are, Ned?"

"Conference rooms?" muttered Ned. "I think they're upstairs, next to the entrance to the auditorium."

"Thanks, Ned," said Nancy. The girls then went to the conference room. When they got there, the room was full of people wearing suits and formal clothes. Because of this, Nancy, Bess, and George decided to wait outside until the people in there finished.

An hour later, the people in the room began to go out of the conference room. Nancy knew that it was their chance to go talk to Dr. Devereux.

As the man walked out of the conference room holding a briefcase, he was a little surprised to see the three girls waiting there for him. "Well, well. You are the girls whom I met earlier, yes?"

Nancy and her friends nodded. "And we'd like to ask you about where you were before you met us at Mr. Doyle's mansion."

"Oh, I was on my way to the _grande maison_, of course. I don't have anything to say about the robbery except the fact that it was very unfortunate."

Nancy looked at his shoe and found dirt all over it. It seemed strange, and she asked, "Professor, why are your shoes all dirty? As I remember, when I got to the mansion, it was raining very hard. That's why the ground became muddy and wet. However, as my friends and I took Mr. Doyle to the nearby hospital, the rain had stopped, and sun was coming out. Because it's summer, the sun sets very late, at around eight to nine, so the ground would have dried in an hour or so. It took us half an hour to the nearby hospital and just as much to come back here, the ground has already dried by the time we arrived here."

She observed the man's face, but he had no expression on his face at all. It was quite chilling how frozen his expression was.

Nancy then continued: "Well, since it takes an hour for the ground to dry, there is no way the ground could have been wet when you arrived. Also, your shoes are covered with dirt, but your pants are not. This indicates that you changed your clothes somewhere. And because the only place where you can find reddish-brown dirt are around the area where Mr. Doyle's mansion stood, I'm sure you were at the place earlier."

Nancy ended her talk and looked at the Frenchman square in the eyes. "Do you have anything to say about that?"

Bess and George just listened to Nancy talk, and they were astounded by how Nancy built her logic. She was like Sherlock Holmes, especially how she used the limited information to logically construct a story about what the suspect had been doing during certain periods of time.

After listening to the girl talk, the man smiled. Nancy immediately noticed something strange. He then looked at his shoe. "That's a very nice induction you've just made there, _mademoiselle_. However, I can explain everything. You see, I've already made a visit to Monsieur Doyle at six o'clock. But after I drove an hour and a half away from the mansion, I suddenly remembered that I've forgotten to tell him something. That's why I drove back. And when I got there, there were many _voitures de police_, and I had no choice but to wait and see what the matter was. And because of that, I got dirt on my _chaussures_. I also noticed that I got some dirt on my pants, so changed it as I arrived, since I can't come to a conference with dirty pants, _n'est-ce pas_?"

Nancy knew that the man's explanation made sense, and she didn't want him to be suspicious of her. "Okay. I was just curious, that's all," she said, turning around. "Bye, Dr. Devereux." Bess and George followed her, also saying goodbyes to the man. Dr. Devereux stood there with a smiling expression, waving his hands friendly as the girls left.

However, when the girls were out of sight, he immediately glared at the girl detective, who just turned around the corner. "I shouldn't have underestimated her. That Nancy Drew must be the keenest girl that I've ever met."

As he opened his briefcase, he took out the manila envelope that had the words "Bank robbery file" written on it. He opened the folder, and he then smiled as he saw what was inside. He snickered as he closed the folder and put it safely into the briefcase.

The girls were exiting the college when Nancy said, "I still think he's the thief."

"Why do you say that?" asked Bess.

Nancy thought for a moment. "I don't know. It's my detective's intuition, I guess."

"But you sure surprised us, Nancy," George said with a grin. "Who knew you could make an induction like the famous Sherlock Holmes?"

Nancy grinned. "All thanks to the books which Dad bought me when I was ten: "The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes." I still read them whenever I have free time on my hands."

Bess then said, "But you're just going to let that man go?"

Nancy shook her head. "No way. But for now, I don't have enough proof, and if I accuse him without an evidence, he can sue me for that."

George laughed. "That's from your experience of being a lawyer's daughter, isn't it?"

The titian-haired girl detective grinned. "I guess so."

At that moment, Nancy's cell phone rang. When she checked the caller ID, Nancy found out that the call was from Hannah Gruen, the Drews' housekeeper and Nancy's motherly figure who always was on Nancy's side. Nancy flipped the phone open and said, "Hello?"

"Don't hello me, young lady!" a loud voice roared from the other side of the line. Immediately, Nancy jumped about half a foot in surprise. "What time do you think it is? It's already nine-thirty! Now I don't care if you want to starve yourself out there, but at least I need a word from you about what time you're going to come! Do you have any idea how worried your father and I were?"

Nancy said, "Sorry, Hannah. I promise to be in the house by ten."

The next morning, Nancy called Helen Archer as soon as she finished eating breakfast.

"_Allô?_" a voice asked from the other side of the line. Nancy grinned as she noticed her old chum's tone.

"_Bonsoir, Madame Archer. Comment allez-vous?_" said Nancy. It translated to: "Good evening, Mrs. Archer. How are you?"

Helen also noticed her chum's voice and immediately switched to English. "Oh, Nancy! It's been an eon since I've last heard from you! How is River Heights? And how is your relationship with Ned?"

Nancy laughed. "Everything is just like it is when you left, Helen. But how's France? Do you enjoy all the art and history France is famous for?"

"Hardly. I just want to see you guys so much! So have you decided? I've got three tickets, and I'm anxious to send it by air mail as soon as possible. It'll be just super! I can guide you to all areas of Paris, from the Louvre to the Notre-Dame. Say, did you ever realize that the initials of Notre-Dame is the same as yours, Nancy Drew?"

Nancy couldn't keep herself from laughing. "Oh, Helen, you're just like how you used to be when we were in the same high school. And yes, Bess, George, and I are coming there as soon as possible. So you can send those tickets as fast as you can."

"Great! So when can you come? I ordered the tickets to be valid on this coming Wednesday. Is that okay?"

"Sure! That'll give me more than enough time to get ready."

"Super! I'll be waiting, then. _Au revoir_!"

With that, Helen hung up. Nancy then muttered to herself, "I'd better call Bess and George about this."

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"The plane will be landing in a few minutes. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you," said the announcement. Joe opened his eyes lazily as he woke up and yawned. Next to him, Frank was reading his book.

"Are you still tired?" asked Frank. "I couldn't sleep very much. I just kept going back and forth between the bathroom and here, just to keep my feet moving."

Joe yawned again. "I just hope my legs won't be numb once we get out of the plane. Seven hours of flight is so tough!"

Frank looked at Joe, and he smiled mischievously. Taking out his digital camera, He took a picture of Joe.

"Wh…What was that about?" shouted Joe, instantly blinded by the flash.

"You should look at yourself," said Frank, still grinning.

Joe felt something leaning against him. When he turned his head to his right, he saw Iola leaning against him and sleeping quietly.

"Whoa!" Joe immediately shouted in surprise. Iola woke up and yawned.

"Frank! Give me that camera!" said Joe.

Frank grinned but didn't give his brother the camera. "This'll be nice. I'll send this to Aunt Gertrude when we get to the hotel."

When the plane landed on Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, which was the largest airport serving Paris and the second busiest passenger airport in Europe after London Heathrow, Frank, Joe, and Iola went to the luggage carousel to get their luggage. It was still ten o'clock in the morning, and many people were at the airport.

As Frank waited for the luggage to come out, he heard the familiar voices behind him.

"I told you not to bring four suitcases!" said the first voice.

"But we're going to stay in France for _one week_! How do you expect me to survive without at least four suitcases? I need my makeup, I need my clothes, and I need my dress just in case a cute French guy asked me to a date," said the second.

"Hey, I thought you already had a boyfriend. Don't tell me you're dumping Dave!" said the third. The third voice was by far the most familiar of the three, and Frank immediately realized who the girls were.

Just as he was about to tell Joe, the girls whose voices he had heard earlier bumped into him.

"_Excusez-moi_," the titian-haired girl immediately said. "_Je suis désolée_." But as she looked up, her mouth opened wide. "Hey! Frank! Joe! What brought you to France?"

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**_Postscript: _I haven't done the pattern in which Nancy and the Hardys meet by coincidence in so long, I thought of using it again. Anyway, this chapter, as I've said earlier, is the start of the main story. The detectives are all in France, and the mystery will take place almost entirely in France. Therefore, I'll be adding a lot of French into this story, so you might want to have a French-English dictionary with you:-) Just a thought.**

**So, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. There will be a few more suspects added into the story. But don't worry, I'll have a brief introduction of each character at the beginning of the chapter (in the Foreword section), so you'll be able to refresh your memory after a week. If you want, I can send you a message stating each of the character's traits and jobs, if you wish. Just say so or send me a message, and I'll send one to you right away (once all the suspects are introduced, I mean).**


	6. Le Ville Lumière

_**Foreword:**_ **I'm really busy right now, and I can only update every two weeks from now on. Maybe during the vacations, I can write more, but right now, I'm too busy to write much. Therefore, I think this will be my last mystery for now. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it:-)  
**

**So, here is the newest chapter. Frank, Joe, Iola, Nancy, George, and Bess are all in Paris. But there are other people in Paris that you might not expect... To fully enjoy this chapter, read the previous two or three chapters to refresh your memory, if needed. I'll write the rest of the mystery as fast as I can. Enjoy and review, please!**

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**Chapter Five**

**_Le Ville Lumière_**

**City of Light**

"I didn't know that you guys'll be here!" shouted Nancy in surprise. Bess and George seemed equally amazed.

"I'm just as surprised as you are, Nancy," said Frank. "But we shouldn't be staring at each other here. Why not get our stuff and head to the nearest café? I know a great place to go. Or, if you want, I can drop you off at your hotel."

Bess giggled. "We aren't staying at a hotel. We're going to stay in our friend's house."

"Oh, speaking of friend," said George. "Don't we have to call Helen once we get out of the plane?"

"That's right," said Nancy, taking out her cell phone.

Iola suddenly seemed interested. "Helen?" she asked. "Do you mean Helen Corning?"

Surprised, Nancy nodded. Bess and George also looked at Iola. "Yes, that's her. But how do you know her? I don't think I've ever introduced her to you before," said Nancy.

Iola grinned. "She and I used to be friends when I was in kindergarten. She was a few years older than me, but we got along fine. Actually, we lived right next door of each other, and we played everyday. However, after she moved to River Heights, I wasn't able to play with her anymore. But we did write letters, send e-mails, and talk on the phone." She paused and thought for a moment. "And she said something about wanting to introduce me to some friends she made in River Heights, but I had no idea those friends were you, Nancy!"

As the detectives got their cars at the car rental, Nancy called Helen. "Hello? Helen? Can you tell me how to get to your house? I'm at the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, and I already got my rental car."

Helen told her the directions, but Nancy found out that her friend's house was thirty minutes away, which was quite a distance.

"Okay, so we'll drive Iola to Helen's house," said Nancy. "You two can go to your hotel. Let's meet two hours later at a café somewhere. Where do you think is good?"

Frank opened the pamphlet that had all the good restaurants in Paris. "Let's see… I think the Café Rosemont is a good place to go. Why not meet there?"

"Sure," said Nancy. "So let's be there by noon. We can have lunch there, too."

As the two groups went their way, Nancy drove to Helen's house. It was thirty minutes from the airport, and the house was at the outer part of Paris. It was twenty miles—or thirty-two kilometers—from the airport.

The house was as big as Nancy's, and the garden was nicely maintained, with a birdbath, a statue, and many flower gardens. As the girls knocked on the door of the building, a young dark-haired woman opened the door. When she saw the newcomers, she smiled broadly.

"Nancy! Bess! George! What a pleasant surprise!" she said. "Here, I'll get your suitcases. Oh, and Iola! I haven't seen you in ages! You got really attractive, that's for sure! How's your brother? Is he still a food-lover?"

Iola smiled. "Yup, and I hope he can stop loving it, too. How is Jim? Is he here?"

"No, he just went on a business trip. He won't be back for three days. And that's a shame, too, since I wanted him to meet all of you…"

"It's okay," Nancy said. "We're going to stay here for one week, anyway. He can see us when he comes back. Anyway, we have to go after we put our stuff into our rooms."

"Sure. Your rooms are upstairs. Make yourselves at home." With that, Helen went into the kitchen.

The girls first put their stuffs into their rooms. Then, they went to the kitchen. Helen was there, and she said, "I'm really sorry, but I have an errand to run and won't come back till tonight."

"Don't worry," said Nancy. "We can go sightsee by ourselves, although it might not be as fun as when you're around."

Helen smiled. "Okay. I'll be off, then. See you tonight!"

When the woman left, Bess checked the clock. "You guys! We have to get going now, or we'll be late!"

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Frank and Joe left for the hotel which Renee had told them to come. It was a fairly small hotel at the outskirts of Paris, a small inn that was at least a mile away from any nearby house.

The name of the inn was Auberge des Roses. It translated to "Inn of the Roses." Frank and Joe got out of their car and looked around. The place was quite old and rundown, but the building itself was quite beautiful, with the old-fashioned style and the newly-painted walls. The place had no rose, however, except for a small batch that was placed by the door to add the mood. The boys entered the inn and told the innkeeper their names.

After getting their keys, the boys then went to the rooms. Frank and Joe had two rooms that were right next to each other. As Frank got into the room, he noticed the two big windows. When he looked out of the windows, he saw many trees nearly covering the road on which they came from sight.

The place was very peaceful and quiet, despite the image of cars and noise of the City of Light. Compared to Paris, this place was like the haven of silence, without any noise whatsoever. The place was very quiet, nearly too quiet.

Frank opened his suitcase and took his cell phone out. Turning it on, he walked out of his room. When he knocked on his brother's door, Joe answered that he needed more time, so Frank decided to go to the lobby.

The young detective went to the lobby and got himself a cup of coffee. The coffee was unlike any that he had ever drunk before. The unmistakable aroma and the soothing taste made the coffee the best of all that Frank had tasted before. Sitting down, Frank consumed the coffee until someone entered the lobby. It was a young woman, with very white complexion and mysterious hazel eyes. She looked at Frank and immediately smiled.

"_Bonjour, mon ami_. (Hello, my friend.) What took you so long?" she asked. She also took a cup and poured some of the coffee into it.

"I forgot to call you," said Frank. "Sorry, Renee."

Renee smiled as she sat down. "So, how do you like this inn?"

"I think it's very quiet and relaxing," answered Frank.

The young woman smiled and sipped her coffee. "I chose this inn because of its quiet, halcyon scenery and because of its distance from the city."

"Why do you want to be in an inn that's so far away from the TV studio?"

Renee smiled. "When you are a celebrity, Frank, you don't necessarily want to go to the city. There might be paparazzi, press reporters, and fans that never seem to get tired of what they do. But out here, nobody can bother us, and I love spending my time here, even though it might not be very convenient."

Frank nodded. "I understand."

Renee stood up. "Where's Joe?" she asked.

"He's still upstairs. He needs some more time to get ready. When should we be at the studio?"

Renee shook her head. "Not till the day after tomorrow. Actually, I told you to come now because I wanted you to get used to this time zone, and I know it might be hard to adjust if you're not used to traveling such a long distance. Also, I wanted you to have some time to look at the beautiful city of Paris. You can have today and tomorrow off. We'll talk about the show later, okay?"

Frank nodded. "Alright."

The actress then went to throw the empty cup away, and she then went out. However, she stopped before she opened the door. "Oh, and we'll be having a dinner party tonight here, so be sure to come back by six. You can invite your friends, if you know any here in France. Anyway, see you later!"

Frank also stood up and threw the cup away. He went outside to get some fresh air. "There's still time. I'll just go around the inn," he told himself. He went to the side of the inn, but all he could see were trees. Then, he went to the back of the inn.

"Hm?" he muttered to himself. "What's that?"

The detective went to the brownish object that he saw. When he walked a few yards, he saw that there was a cottage at the back of the inn. "Is it a cottage? Or a bungalow?"

Curious, he went to investigate. After opening the door, he noticed that there was nothing inside. It was just an empty cottage, with no furniture or lamp in it.

"Well, I guess there's nothing interesting to see here," he muttered. He looked at the back of the cottage, but he only saw trees after trees. But as he turned around, Frank noticed that the cabin was nearly fifty feet away from the back of the inn. "I wonder why it's so far away?"

When Frank got to the front of the inn again, he saw Joe waiting for him by the rental car. Joe noticed Frank and shouted, "Hey, bro! Come on! We'll be late!"

As the boys started their car, Joe noticed a woman driving away from the inn. "Hmm…" he muttered. "I've seen her somewhere before. But where?"

When the boys got there, they went to one of the three available tables at the outside area of Café Rosemont. As they sat down, they saw Nancy, George, Bess, and Iola come to the door. Frank waved at the girls, and they came to the table. However, since each table could only seat four, Nancy, Bess, and George decided to sit at the table next to the boys', while Iola decided to sit next to Joe.

"So what brought you to France?" asked Nancy, once the girls all sat down at their seats.

"We were invited to be on TV for a special two-hour event that talks about the famous detectives from around the world," answered Joe.

"Wow! And who hosts that show?" asked Bess.

"I think you know this person, but the host is Renee Frazier," Frank said.

"Renee Frazier?" Bess seemed surprised.

Joe nodded. "She's a world-famous movie actress, and she is now hosting this show. I guess she must have good taste in choosing us," he said, grinning.

"_Excusez-moi_ (Excuse me)," a voice said. "_Vous desirez, monsieur? _(What would you like, sir?)"

Joe turned around. "_Oui, je voudrais un jus d'orange, s'il vous plaît. Et vous?_ (Yes, I'd like an orange juice. What about you guys?)" He turned to the others.

The teens each ordered their drink. As the waitress jotted down everything and turned around, Joe noticed a girl enter the café. She looked around as if searching for a place to sit.

But as he saw who the girl was, Joe suddenly stopped. The girl had short brown hair, brown eyes, and a kind face. The face was unmistakable. The girl also stopped as she saw Joe.

Suddenly, something in Joe's mind opened, as if an old album had been pulled out of the shelf filled with books. The face brought the long-lost memory that Joe had stashed away in the back of his head, and now, everything was coming out. The face. The voice. The conversations. And the promise. The woman was the person whom Joe saw when he and Frank left the inn.

"I… I can't believe it!" muttered Joe. "Is it really you, Diana?"

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_**Postscript: **_**For some reason, my underline bar doesn't work, so I decided to use the X's instead. I think it's pretty nice. Anyway, I'm going to work as hard as I can to finish this story. I'm sure that this will be by far the most shocking story you've ever read. (That's by me, that is. I don't know about the other writers.) And this time, I will include two impossible crimes and one message left by the victim. If you want challenge, this will surely be, since it took me long enough to think about it:-)**

**Please review after you read this. I'm looking forward for suggestions (like putting English translations into the story, more romance, etc.) that I can use to improve the story.**


	7. Tourisme dans la ville

_**Foreword:**_ **Finally, I'm able to finish another chapter! The story has been going just as I planned, and there will be more people appearing soon. I know it might seem slow at first, but when the real mystery begins, the tempo will go a lot faster. In fact, I'm planning to make this story a twenty-five chapter mystery, which is the longest I've ever written, especially since this will be the last story I'll write in this series. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Please review!**

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**Chapter Six**

_Tourisme dans la ville_

**Sightseeing in the City**

"Diana?" asked Iola. "Who's Diana?"

Joe turned around, uneasy and not knowing how to tell his girlfriend about Diana, whom he had fallen in love long before he ever met Iola. But as he turned around, he felt two arms go around his neck.

"Joe! It _is _you! Oh, I'll never forget that mischievous face and sparkling blond hair! I'm so glad to see you!" Diana said, joyfully hugging Joe by the neck.

The teen detective was embarrassed, and as the teens watched, his face turned redder and redder. Only Iola seemed to be unhappy of this situation.

Iola opened her mouth. "Joe, can you please tell me who that girl is?"

Still blushing, Joe tried to explain, but Diana interrupted, "We were best friends when we were little! I suddenly had to move away, so I couldn't even say a proper goodbye. Oh, Joe! I never forgot about you for a single day!" She then kissed Joe lightly on his cheek. "Long time no see," she said with a smile.

Iola seemed more angry than surprised. "Joe," she said through gritted teeth, "are you telling me that she is your girlfriend?"

Joe was uncertain what to answer. "Well, Iola, I haven't met her since we were in fifth grade," he said. "So I don't think she's actually my girlfriend."

"Iola?" said Diana. "You mean this girl is your girlfriend now?" She looked at Iola with surprised eyes. Suddenly, her expression saddened. "Okay, Joe," she muttered. "I understand… So Iola is your girlfriend now, then. Well, sorry I acted so sheepish just now." She then smiled. "I'm happy for you, Joe."

"Wait," said Joe, "I don't want you to be sad over this." He immediately saw how Diana was pushing back her tears.

Nancy looked at the girl's expression. Diana was smiling, but her eyes were sad. It seemed like she was trying hard to act cheerful.

Joe then said, "Diana, if you want, you can come to Auberge des Roses tonight and join us at the party. I mean, it's been so long, I'd like to talk about how you've been doing and why you left so suddenly."

Diana paused for a moment, then smiled again. This time, she seemed happier than before. "I can't believe it! What a coincidence!" she shouted. "I'm staying at the same inn for this week, too! You see, I'm currently living in Nice."

"Niece?" asked Joe.

The girl laughed out loud. "No, Joe! I'm not living in my niece! I'm living in a city in France called Nice."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I'm currently studying to become a reporter, and I decided to visit the college in Paris. You see, the colleges and universities in Paris are much better than anywhere else in France."

"So you're planning to be a reporter now?" asked Joe, sadly. "Not a teacher?"

The girl's smile disappeared for a second as she looked sadly at her cup of tea. "Lots of things have happened since you and I last met, Joe…" she said, but she suddenly seemed to notice that she was telling more than she should and changed the topic. "So…you and your brother are now famous detectives, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess," said Frank.

"I read about you two all the time in the newspaper. The time when you solved a murder case in Miami, Seattle, Maine… Who knows? You might even solve a mystery here in France!" said Diana.

Joe then looked at the girl and said, "Tell me, Diana…" His expression was serious. "What _did _happen on the day you suddenly moved away?"

Diana suddenly seemed to be shocked to hear the words, but she remained calm. "I'd rather not talk about it now… Maybe later, at the party tonight. You will be there, right?"

Joe nodded. "And so will Frank, Nancy, Iola, George, and Bess."

The girl smiled. "I have to go." Then, she stood up. Turning around, she muttered weakly, "Bye, Joe."

Joe didn't say a thing and just looked at the girl get out of the café and into the crowd.

"So what should we do now?" asked Bess as she looked at Joe worriedly. "Maybe we can go to the Eiffel Tower."

"That's a great idea," said Nancy. "When you come to France, you can't feel like you're in France until you go to Eiffel Tower!"

"Alright. So the first place to visit is the Eiffel Tower," said Frank, jotting down something on his notepad. "Since we have all the time in the world, we can even go to other places, like Champs Elysées, the Louvre, Notre Dame…"

"That sounds marvelous," said Iola. "So let's get going then. Joe?" She turned to Joe. The detective was still staring at the crowd. "Joe!"

"Huh?" he muttered as he turned around. "What?"

Iola seemed to be upset. "Let's go! We're going to Eiffel Tower!"

Built in 1889, the Eiffel Tower commemorated the hundredth anniversary of the French Revolution. Until 1930, it was the world's tallest building. Also, it was repainted seventeen times since it was built, an average of once every seven years. First, it was red-brown. Then, it was changed to yellow ochre, chestnut brown, and finally to bronze.

Frank, Joe, Iola, Nancy, Bess, and George each paid eleven euros, which equaled to eleven dollars, to get into the elevator that would take them up to the top level. The teenagers first went to the restaurant called Altitude 95, which was located ninety-five meters above sea level, thus getting its name.

"Wow, I guess this is going to be pretty expensive!" muttered George. "I mean, it must cost an arm and a leg to even have a cup of lemonade!"

Bess giggled. "You know, George, in here, lemonade isn't the same as US. The lemonade, which is called _limonade_, is a carbonated beverage made with lemon juice and water."

"You sure know a lot about this, Bess," said Frank.

Bess blushed. "Oh, it's because I went to the party in which there were drinks from all over the world. Of course, I tried all of them and found the experience to be quite unpleasant."

George thought about it. "Hey, isn't that the time when you came home moaning and complaining about how your stomach was going to explode any second? So that's what you've been doing!"

"Well, it was drink-all-you-want kind of deal. I paid twenty dollars for that!" answered Bess.

Nancy smiled. "But it's sure nice to come to the real France, instead of just drinking the lemonade that's made in it."

Iola looked at the map of Eiffel Tower. "It says here that the second floor also has a restaurant."

"Wait a minute!" said Joe. "What do you mean, second floor? This is the second floor, isn't it?"

Nancy explained, "Well, that's because in Europe, what the Americans call the 'first floor' is actually the 'ground floor', and the first floor to be off the ground is called 'first floor', the second one is 'second floor' and so on. It's quite impressive to learn all these differences between French and American ways of doing and saying things."

The group then went around the first floor of the structure. There were any things to see, from the original hydraulic pump to FerOscope, which was a huge sphere big enough to fit a person inside.

"I'd like to try that!" said Bess joyfully. As her turn came, she immediately went inside and put on the video glasses. The interactive video was fun to watch. It talked about the history of the tower and the work that went into building it.

The group went to the second floor. There, the detectives saw another restaurant, named Le Jules Verne.

"That's quite strange," said Nancy. "It translates to 'The Speckled Alder Lovers'."

"It might sound strange, but this restaurant is one of the best in France," said Iola. "It says here that the owner is Alain Reix, one of France's greatest cooks."

Once they were at the door of the restaurant, Iola gasped as she saw the interior of the restaurant. The inside was much nicer than Altitude 95, and the tables were topped with vases filled with flowers on top of clean, white tablecloths. The view was also terrific, making Bess long to come there one day and have dinner with her boyfriend, Dave Evans.

Then, they went to the spot where the floor was transparent and could be seen through. Nancy, George, Frank, and Joe enjoyed the view from hundreds of feet above the ground, but they had hard time persuading the other two, especially Bess, to come and take a look.

There were also a few gift shops. There, Bess bought a miniature model of the Eiffel Tower, along with a snack to put into her purse. Iola took out her camera and snapped a few pictures. "Wow," she muttered. "This is really awesome! But we can go even higher, can't we?"

Joe nodded. "We paid the full price. It should be okay for us to go to the top level of the tower. Let's get into the elevator now."

The group went up to the top level. The level was divided into two sections—indoor and outdoor—and the detectives went to see the wax figures of Gustave Eiffel, the man whose company built the Eiffel Tower and, surprisingly, the Statue of Liberty that was sent to United States as a present from France.

Outdoor portion of the top level was marvelous. The group was astounded at the beautiful view of Paris, including the famous Champ de Mars, which served as the drill field of Ecole Militaire (Military Academy), and Champs Elysées, which was a famous avenue lined with luxurious stores on both sides.

Nancy was excited to see such a beautiful view. "Wow!" she muttered. "This is such a wonderful sight! I wish I could see further!"

Frank took out his binoculars and turned to Nancy. "Here," he said. "I brought binoculars. Do you want to use it?"

Smiling, Nancy thanked Frank and took the binoculars. "Hey! That's the Louvre! I always dreamed of going there!"

George nodded. "It's really huge. There are thirty-five thousand works of art displayed in over sixty thousand square meters of exhibition space. And the shape is quite interesting, too. The entire museum goes around an upside-down T-shaped space in the middle, and there are three floors."

"I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about the Louvre, George," mused Bess. "I guess you weren't spending your Internet time just to surf the sports websites."

Frank, Joe, and Iola wanted to stay up for a little more, so they remained as Nancy, Bess, and George went down the tower.

As the three girls descended the staircase, Nancy noticed something strange. She turned around.

"What's the matter, Nance?" asked Bess.

"Yeah," said George. "_Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? _(What happened?)"

Nancy shook her head. "It's nothing."

"What a showoff," mumbled Bess as she looked at George. "When did you learn French, George? I thought the language you chose was Spanish."

George grinned. "I've read a few books like _French for Dummies_ and _Idiot's Guide to French_. I can say a few things in French."

Bess then looked at Nancy, and she realized that the girl detective was still worriedly looking around as if sensing something.

"Tell me," said Bess. "What are you really concerned about?"

Nancy looked around one more time and whispered to Bess, "I think someone is trailing us."

"Trailing? Us?" asked Bess. "But what for?"

"I don't know. I'm not even on a case yet, and I think I'm being followed by someone."

George grinned. "I guess it's your habit now, Nancy," she said. "You are even being too circumspect, even when you aren't on a case."

Nancy turned her head forward again and sighed. "I just have a feeling…"

Before Nancy could finish her sentence, she felt a hand grab her shoulder.

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_**Postscript: **_**Who can the person that grabbed Nancy be? And what had really happened to Diana when she disappeared mysteriously from Joe? Find out more by reading the next chapter. But most importantly, who will Joe choose in the end? Iola or Diana? You'll have to wait till the end of the story to find out. Oh, and don't forget to review, please!  
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	8. Un étonnement agréable

**_Foreword: _I'm sure you're pretty surprised, since I always update every two weeks. Well, this week, I had more free time than I expected, so I finished this chapter. I'm sure many of you are interested in seeing who the person that grabbed Nancy's shoulder was, so I'll just end this foreword here and let you enjoy this new chapter. Also, in this chapter, Diana's sorrowful past is revealed. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to review!**

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**Chapter Seven**

_Un étonnement agréable_

**A Pleasant Surprise**

With a gasp, Nancy quickly whirled around to see who it was. What kind of attacker would grab a girl's shoulder in broad daylight and in a crowd, where everybody is watching?

Before Nancy could have any time to think about the question, she saw the face of the person who had grabbed her shoulder. It was a brown-haired man with a pair of dark sunglasses and a T-shirt with the logo "_Dans La Belle Ville_ (In the Beautiful City)" printed on it along with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on the background. He wore a pair of blue jeans and sneakers that somehow made her think that he was American, even though she knew that French people also wore jeans and sneakers.

"_Quelle surprise, Nancy! Ça va? _(What a surprise, Nancy! What's up?)" the man said. As soon as Nancy heard the familiar voice, she was so surprised she nearly shouted out his name. Bess and George also gasped.

"Ned Nickerson! Why are you in Paris?" Nancy asked, astounded and amazed. "I thought you were still in the U.S.!"

Ned grinned. "I told you, didn't I? I said that I was going to go on a trip."

Nancy tried to remember the last time in which she saw Ned. She had met him at Emerson College, and she remembered him say: "I just came here to pick up something that I forgot in the classroom that I need for the trip next week."

"So 'the trip next week' meant this trip to Paris," muttered Nancy. To Ned, she asked, "So what for? I don't think you mentioned anything about coming here as an exchange student."

"I'm not," replied Ned. "I just came here to enjoy the beautiful architecture and the marvelous paintings in the Louvre."

"How nice!" said Bess. "So you're here to study the arts."

Ned nodded. "I don't look like it, but I'm actually quite artistic."

Nancy smiled. "I sure think so, Ned. No one I know is as artistic as you are."

As the four talked, the remaining threesome in the group arrived. "Hey, who's that?" asked Iola as she approached the foursome and noticed an unfamiliar face: Ned.

"This is Ned Nickerson," introduced Nancy. "He's _mon copain _(my boyfriend)."

"Wow!" exclaimed Iola in delight. "How sweet! So how long have you two been dating?"

"I'd say two years," said Ned. "It's a really strange meeting. I met her right by a burning house!"

Nancy smiled, remembering the day when she saw Ned ride her car when she went to see what was happening at the house that had fire coming out of its windows. "But it was quite strange," said Nancy, "since I saw him drive my car, and that made me think that he was a thief!"

Ned grinned embarrassedly. "I guess I should've talked to her about it beforehand," he said. "And you?" he asked, turning to Iola.

"I'm Iola," said the girl. "And I'm"—she went to Joe and hugged his arm—"Joe's girlfriend!"

Joe turned a slight red, and he gently moved Iola away and smiled. "Yeah, she and I have been hanging out for a while."

"For a while?" shouted Iola. "We were close since we were in grade school!"

Joe blushed again. "As I said, don't talk too much about that now, okay?"

Nobody else knew, but Joe was secretly thinking about Diana, the girl who he fell in love with long before Iola.

"So what should we do now?" asked Nancy. "After looking at the Eiffel Tower, I don't know where to go."

Then, Bess grinned. "Leave it to me," she said, taking out a map of Paris. "I was planning to go to the world's most gorgeous shopping avenue: the Champs Elysées!"

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As the clocked showed six o'clock, Nancy patted her friend's shoulder. "Bess," she said. "It's already six o'clock. You should just decide what to buy."

"Oh, but I can't decide between these two dresses! Which one do you think fits me better? This yellow one that matches my hair color? Or this one that matches my eyes?"

George sighed. "Who cares, Bess! I'd say you should buy the blue one. You already have tons of yellow dresses at home."

Bess nodded as she looked at the two dresses for the last time. Then, she went to the cash register and paid for it. As the three girls got out, they saw Frank, Joe, Iola, and Ned waiting for them. "_Es-tu prête? _(Are you ready?)" asked Frank, who was the driver. "I'll go first with Iola and Joe, while you four can follow us on your car."

Nancy, Bess, George, and Ned went to the parking lot, where the group's car was parked. It was a blue one, and its color matched the color of Nancy's convertible at home perfectly. Turning on the ignition, Nancy watched as Frank's car went into the busy traffic.

The ride was a long and bumpy one. The two cars drove through woods and fields. As Nancy's car drove over the bridge, Bess noticed something far in the distance. "Hey!" she called to the other three that were also in the car. "There's a cliff over there! It's just like the one in which Nancy, Frank, and Joe stayed during their previous mystery!"

Nancy looked into the direction in which Bess was pointing at and realized that it looked just like the cliff that she saw just a few weeks ago. However, the cliff had no house, and it had no tree whatsoever.

"That's a cool place to hang out," commented George. "I'll bet it's going to feel really good while you stand there and breathe the salty wind blowing from the distance across the blue horizon."

Bess giggled. "I didn't know you were so artistic, George. You sound just like a poet!"

George took that as a compliment. "I wanted to prove that I'm not just all muscles."

The two cars finally arrived at the hotel. Nancy got out first and saw how wonderful the place was. Even though it was neither as gorgeous nor unique as the previous hotels in which she stayed, it was surely the most homely. The place was made in an old-fashioned way, with ivy covering most of the outer surface of the hotel. There were also many trees behind the hotel. As she looked around, she found that she could see no other house close by, even though there were no trees blocking her view. She just saw a large green field that stretched from the place where she stood all the way to the horizon. It seemed like she was gazing at a picture, since everything that she saw was perfect. The place was her idea of a perfect hotel: without anything fancy, rich, or decorated.

"This place is amazing!" shouted Bess. "What a beautiful house!"

"_Aimez-vous l'hotel? _(Do you like the hotel?)" asked a voice from behind them. When the detectives turned around, they saw a tall man with a mustache and black suit standing there with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. His hair was completely white, as if it were covered with fresh snow. "I'm glad someone can shout out such a compliment as he or she sees this place."

"Hello. Are you the owner of this hotel?" asked Frank, immediately impressed that this Frenchman could speak such good English.

The man nodded. "My name is Clement Charlock. I'm a retired detective who is now just another old man with too much time on their hands."

"Clement Charlock!" exclaimed Joe. "So you're the famous detective who is going to be on the show with us! I'm Joe Hardy, and this is my brother, Frank. We were invited to talk on a French TV show. I heard that many other famous detectives, new and old, were invited to say a few comments on the show."

Mr. Charlock smiled happily. "I remember the time when I was as young and spunky as you two boys," he said. As he turned to look at the others, he suddenly stopped and raised his eyebrows as he saw Nancy. "Joel…" he muttered.

"Huh?" said Bess as she heard Mr. Charlock call Nancy "Joel." "Her name is Nancy, Mr. Charlock," she explained.

"Nancy?" muttered Mr. Charlock. Then, he suddenly seemed to snap out of his daydreaming and smiled. "Sorry. I mistook your friend for someone else I knew a long time ago…"

As the group went to the dining room, they met six people. There were Diana, Renee, and Serge. Also, there were two more people whom the group did not know, and in the room was also, to Nancy, Bess, and George's great surprise, Dr. Devereux. When the professor saw the three girls, his face went pale for a second, but he regained his composure. "Well, it's surely nice to see you three here," he said as he smiled at the girls. "And you," he said as he saw Ned. "I remember you from the time you and Dave Evans were talking in the corridors. I have to say, Dave is such a bright student."

Nancy smiled uneasily, simply because she knew the fact that Dave slept through most of the classes. While Ned and the professor were talking, she went to the two people that stood by the window and talked to each other. Because she heard that they spoke fluent English, she decided to talk to them in English. "Hello!" she said as she approached the two people. One was a blond woman who seemed to be in her thirties, and the other was a man with brown hair, also in his thirties. When they saw Nancy, they immediately smiled, somewhat forcedly, at the girl.

"Hello!" said the woman. "I'm Marie-Jacque Dernier. I'm a professional photographer. I decided to stay in this hotel because I read that this is famous for its beautiful scenery and quiet atmosphere. It's nice to find some young people hang out around here."

"Marie-Jacque?" asked Nancy. "Is that your first name?"

Marie smiled. "In France, a parent can either choose a single first name or two names connected by a hyphen. When they choose the latter, they must put the name that fits the child's gender first, then whatever they want as the second name. In my case, I got the name Jacque as my second part of first name." She paused for a bit. "It's interesting, isn't it? I really like how unique my name is, since most of the girls had names like Anne-Marie."

"And you?" Nancy turned to the man.

The man answered that his name was Martin Rousseau. "I'm a fashion designer who has a studio in Paris," he added.

"A fashion designer?" Iola, who was standing close by, asked. She seemed to be excited by what he said. "Do you design cool dresses and outfits?"

Martin nodded. "It's quite an interesting job, really. I wanted to be an artist, but since I knew that I can't earn much of a living as a painter, I decided to be something just as amazing: fashion designer."

Serge Beauchamp, who also joined the conversation, nodded understandingly. "I know how you feel," he said. "It was very irritating when I first opened up a pastry shop in Nice. I didn't even know what kind of revenue I'd get!"

As the food was served, guests all went to the dining tables and took whatever they wanted and went outside through the side door leading from the kitchen to outside. "Wow!" exclaimed Bess. "This view is so awesome!"

The sky above was turning into deep blue color, and the stars were beginning to shine brightly in the sky. The moon shone over the guests' heads, and the entire forest was dark and mysterious.

Joe went to see Diana. Finding her standing alone holding the paper plates in her hand, he went to talk to her.

"Hi," he said. Diana responded with a smile. "I was wondering if you can tell me what happened."

Diana looked down at her feet. "My dad was killed," she finally said in a whisper that only Joe could hear.

"Killed?" asked Joe. "By whom?"

Diana looked at her plate, which was filled with food from the table in the dining room. "Because he was killed, our family was put into a witness protection program. I was taken away by the police to live in a place where I didn't even know with my mother. It was a place called Paris. I got the pseudonym of Annette Boudreaux and lived a normal life of a typical French child. I lived in Paris, I studied in Paris, and I worked in Paris."

"So you couldn't contact me at all?" asked Joe.

Diana shook her head. "I couldn't. The police monitored our phone calls, and we were restricted from calling anybody in the U.S."

Joe knew what she was talking about, since the killers in the previous mystery, _Haunting Memories_, were also put into witness protection program. "Did you see the killer's face?" he asked.

Diana nodded. "It happened during the summer. I was waiting for my father to come home from business trip, and I heard some noise outside. I went outside with my mother, and we saw a masked man stabbing my father. My father struggled, and he managed to take the mask off the man's face. However, he escaped and grabbed the bag which had his laptop in it with him. My father apparently kept all files in the laptop, and when it was stolen, most of the data for the company went missing, and the company which my father owned went bankrupt just a few months later."

Joe took a sip of _limonade_ which he had held in his hand. "It was tough for you, wasn't it?" he asked.

A drop of tear rolled down Diana's cheek. "And not only that, the killer was identified as being a bank robber that had robbed the Bayport National Bank just a few weeks ago. I think my father was killed because he was at the scene of the crime and was captured as hostage. Because he was a hostage, he had seen the robbers' faces up close."

"Faces?" asked Joe. "There were more than one robber?"

"Yeah. There were two, actually. And when my father died, the killer was still not caught, so we had no choice but to get out of the country."

Joe looked at Diana. "I know it might not be the right time to ask," he said as he put down the paper plate on the ground. "But do you still remember the promise that we made?"

The girl looked at Joe and smiled. "Yeah. I still remember it as if it happened just yesterday."

Joe smiled. "I kept my promise of being a detective." With that, he held her hand, and the two sat down on the ground, looking at the stars.

The two kept chatting and laughing, unaware that Iola was close by, who just happened to overhear their conversation.

They didn't notice her tears.

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**I know that this might seem like a sad cliffhanger for those of you who like Iola. This story centers mainly around the love triangle of Iola, Joe, and Diana. Who will Joe choose? What will happen next? You might find the answers in the next chapter. Please review if you can. I love receiving reviews that tell me where I can improve and what I can do to make the story more intriguing. I hope you'll keep reading this story. See you next time!**


	9. Meurtre impossible

_**Foreword:**_ **Finally! At last, the mystery part of this half-romance half-mystery story appears! In this chapter, the detectives will face yet another challenge that they've never seen. Now, the mystery is just like the one in _Haunting Memories_ but is a little different. But a little difference can make a huge change in the trick, so you might want to look at things from different perspective (hint-hint!). Anyway, here is the newest chapter. Hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

_**Meurtre impossible**_

**Impossible Murder**

After the dinner, at around ten, the group all went inside the building. Nancy and Ned went together and sat down in the lounge. The lounge was fairly large, with a TV, some bookshelves filled with books, four tables that seated six people each, and a counter on which a coffee maker was placed.

"Why don't we play cards to pass the time?" suggested George. "I brought a deck with me. Who wants to join?"

"I'd love to!" said Diana.

"Count me in," replied Joe, raising his hand.

"Same here," Iola said, somewhat lacking her usual spirit.

Frank, Bess, and Nancy all raised their hands. Marie and Clement also joined, but the others declined.

"I have to take some rest. It's been a long day," said Marie. "I'll see you guys tomorrow morning."

Serge went home because he had to wake up early tomorrow to make the bread and pastry to sell in the morning. Martin also declined because he was too tired to stay up for too long and went to his room. Dr. Devereux went back to his room because he wasn't feeling well. Thus, nine people joined the game. Luckily, George brought another deck with her, so the group decided to divide into two groups.

As the clock displayed ten-thirty, the first game was started. They played numerous games, from poker to Go Fish to gin rummy.

Bess sighed as she folded for the fourth time. "This is so unfair!" she muttered as she put her cards down. "I'm never lucky at poker!"

George, on the other hands, kept getting full houses, flushes, and straights. Bess looked crossly at her cousin. "Why do you get all the luck and I don't?" she said.

Her cousin smiled mischievously. "I guess the god of Poker doesn't like you very much!" she replied.

At eleven o'clock, Diana—who had gone to her room to get something—returned with a key. "Mr. Charlock," she called. "This is the spare key to Renee's room. When I went to her room to say goodnight, she told me to give this to you. She says she feels more at ease when you have the spare key, just in case of emergency."

"All right," said Mr. Charlock. "I'll put it into the drawer." Getting up, he took out a key and unlocked the drawer of the desk in the lobby. Then, after placing the key inside, he slid the drawer back in and locked it.

"By the way," said Bess, "why do you think she asked you to put the key back?"

Diana grinned. "I haven't told you, but I've known Renee since the time she was beginning her career as an actress, which was about five years ago. We've been friends since then."

Joe seemed to be impressed. "Diana," he said, "you're just full of so surprises!"

Iola looked at Joe for a second, but looked away. "Let's resume the game," she said.

The games continued till two in the morning. "Do you think we should go to our rooms?" asked Diana as she looked at the time. Everyone nodded.

"Oh, but we don't have a place to stay!" said Bess.

Mr. Charlock smiled. "It's okay," he said. "I have three more rooms open, so you three can use them."

"Really?" asked George. "That'll be great."

The man then said, "The only payment I need is for me to see you enjoying your time here. Also"—he turned to Nancy—"I'd like to hear about your career as a young detective, Miss Drew."

Nancy smiled and promised to tell him about the mystery next morning during breakfast. Then, after the game came to an end, each of the members that joined the game went to his or her room, and nobody woke up until seven o'clock that morning.

* * *

Yawning slightly, Nancy got up and noticed that it was eight in the morning. "It's not that late," she muttered. "And the breakfast is at nine."

She dressed herself and washed her face. By the time she finished, she heard someone outside. Looking out of the window, she noticed that Iola and Joe were standing outside. They seemed to be quarreling.

"I wonder what they're doing this early in the morning," she muttered to herself as she sat down on her bed again and opened her laptop.

"I can't believe you're dumping me for her!" shouted Iola. She seemed more crossed than ever.

"I'm not dumping you," said Joe. "I'm simply talking to her more because I haven't seen her for many years!"

"I don't know about that. Maybe you think that she should be your girlfriend and not me." Iola clutched her shirt tightly with her hand, pushing back her anger.

"You don't understand." Joe was slightly confused as to what he should say. "I really like you, but I also like Diana as well. Please understand this."

Iola turned around sharply and glared at Joe. "Then why were you two talking to each other as if you were boyfriend and girlfriend? Why were you two talking about the promise you made ten years ago? Why don't you understand that I love you?" Tears were pouring out of the girl's eyes now, and she seemed angrier than what she had seemed just two minutes ago.

"Promises…?" Joe didn't know what to say. "So…you overheard our conversation last night?"

"Of course I did!" shouted Iola furiously. "I just happened to pass by when you two were talking like lovers. And all I got from that conversation was that you loved her more than you love me!"

Joe looked at Iola as the girl turned around and walked back into the hotel. He bit his lip and followed her inside. The two didn't talk for a long while. Silence followed again.

* * *

"Where is Renee?"

Bess was the first person to notice that someone was missing from the table. The others looked around. Renee wasn't at the table when breakfast was announced. It was nearly nine-ten, but the actress was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think she's still in her room?" asked Frank. Bess shrugged.

"She might be," said Marie. "I'll go wake her up. I'm sure she must be hungry after sleeping for so many hours."

"I'll go with you," Frank said. "I think that she might be having some kind of difficulty, since she is the type of person that's never late."

"Difficulties?" As George heard the word, she shuddered. She didn't like the feeling she was getting since morning. She was sure that something bad was going to happen. She also stood up. "I'll go, too," she suggested. "I really hope she's alright."

The three went to the actress's room and knocked on the door. However, after waiting for a minute, they found no reply.

"That's strange," muttered Marie. "She should be in there by now. Do you think she is outside?"

"No," Frank said, shaking his head. "I checked outside this morning. It was as quiet as a desert."

He put his hands on the knob and turned it. It didn't open. "Darn it. The door's locked, and there's no way I can open it without a key, since the door is too big to break down."

George felt the strange feeling again. "I'll go get Mr. Charlock," she said. "He has the spare key to the room, since Diana gave him the spare key last night when we were playing games."

Mr. Charlock indeed had the key. He took it out of the locked drawer and went straight to the woman's room with the other three. The rest of the guests were beginning to sense that there was something wrong.

"Are you okay, Miss Frazier?" asked the caretaker as he knocked on the door one last time. Then, still hearing no reply, he unlocked the door and opened it.

Marie was the first one to enter. "Renee, are you al…"

She stopped as she saw what was in the room. There was nobody in the bed, and it was clean and unwrinkled. But on the floor was a person. The person was Renee. She lay on the floor with her face and chest on the ground, and her hair spread out, covering most of her face. The woman's face was mostly covered with her brown hair, but her eyes were clearly seen, for her hair had not covered it. Her eyes were half-open, staring at nothing in particular. In fact, the eyes weren't moving at all. Neither did the woman's body. The woman was dead, and all Marie saw was the soulless body of a once-famous actress, who could speak no more.

An ear-splitting scream rang throughout the hotel. Marie staggered backwards, and her hands flew up to her mouth. Her eyes were as wide as full moon. She looked as if she saw a ghost.

Frank entered the room and saw the same thing. So did Mr. Charlock. The two, however, didn't act like the photographer. They immediately took their handkerchiefs out and walked towards the body. Touching the neck of the actress, Frank shook his head, signaling that the woman was no longer alive.

Mr. Charlock felt the hands, legs, and other various parts of the woman's body. Then, he looked at Frank. "She has been dead for some time now. I'd say she was killed about four hours ago."

"Four hours…" muttered Frank. "That's at five o'clock in the morning."

The other detective nodded. "We'll have to call the police."

The guests were at the door, and Bess gasped as she saw the woman's body. "That can't be!" she shouted. "She's…dead?"

Frank nodded. "And we should call the police now."

The detective went to the phone and took the receiver off the cradle. He got ready to dial, but when he heard nothing, his face got pale. He immediately checked the phone. There wasn't anything wrong with it. He checked the back of the phone. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He checked it again. He had to admit that what he saw was true: the modular cable was missing.

"Did you call the police?" asked Bess. She and the other guests were rushing down the stairs.

Frank shook his head. "The modular cable of the phone is missing," he announced.

Everyone was shocked to hear this. Nancy then suggested, "I'll go try my car."

The girl detective went out of the room and to the parking lot. When she got there, she saw a horrifying sight. The tires of all cars were slashed with a knife, and all the tires were flat. She immediately went inside and told the rest what she had seen. They were as shocked to hear this as she was.

"So we're stuck here?" asked Dr. Devereux. "What about the killer?"

"I'm sure the killer is still inside," said Mr. Charlock, coming from inside the building. "And I have to say that this killer is by far the cleverest criminal that I've seen in a long time."

"What makes you say so?" asked Martin.

Mr. Charlock explained, "The room was completely locked. When I went to check the window, I found it locked from inside, and when I checked the door, it was also locked before I put the key into it. And as far as I can remember, the spare key was given to me by this young lady over here"—he pointed to Diana—"at eleven o'clock yesterday. Then, I locked it up in the drawer in the main lobby. That explains one thing: the key was unusable from eleven last night to nine this morning."

The man then went on. "But when I found the only other key to the room in the drawer of the desk in the victim's room, I knew that it couldn't be used either because nobody could lock the door and then return the key back into the drawer and close the drawer when finished."

Martin then interrupted, "So the woman was killed before the room was locked. And if that's the case, then that girl named Diana is the killer!"

The guests turned to Diana, who was shivering with shock. "I…I didn't kill Miss Windham! When I went to her, she was still alive and told me to give the key to Mr. Charlock!"

"But you can be lying," said Martin. "You could have killed her and then gave Mr. Charlock the key. That's the only possible reason!"

"No!" shouted Joe. He ran in between Martin and Diana. "She can't be the killer!" he shouted angrily at the man. "She has no motive!"

Frank stopped his brother by holding his shoulder. "Joe," he said, "listen to what Mr. Charlock has to say."

Everyone's eyes turned to the middle-aged detective. Mr. Charlock started his explanation again: "When I checked the victim, I found that rigor mortis had already set in. Because when a person dies, her body loses circulation, so the body stiffens. And after decades of experience as a professional detective, I am proud to say that I can analyze the time of death as precisely as any police investigator. And after I checked the victim, I found out that she had died just four hours ago, which is same as five in the morning today."

Nancy gasped. "Are you saying that…?"

Mr. Charlock nodded. "I'm saying that the woman was killed after I got the spare key. But if a person kills her and then closes the door, he won't be able to lock it, since the doors here aren't auto-locks."

"So he had to use the key to lock the room," added Frank. "But when we looked at the drawer, we found the key inside the closed drawer. That means after the killer killed Renee, he closed the door, locked it, and somehow put the key back into the drawer, and then closed it. Do you think something that complicated could be done from outside?"

Everybody looked at the two detectives in horror. "That's not possible!" shouted Marie. "So…the killer disappeared without a trace?"

Frank nodded. "And not only that," he added, "he might still be in here, among the guests that are now trapped in this hotel."

* * *

**_Postscript: _The biggest different between this and the previous story is that the door is no auto-lock. Therefore, the door cannot lock itself unless you turn the small knob from the inside. But this also means that when the detectives entered the room, the victim was with the killer, but that's not the case. Did the person walk through walls again, or is there a different way? More coming up, and don't forget to review, as always!**


	10. Sans une espace

**_Foreword: _I feel really guilty for not updating for over a MONTH! Because this is Thanksgiving, I'd like to give my thanks to all the readers who read my stories and supported me. Thank you, everyone! So this chapter has an added bonus for those of you who might have forgotten who the characters were. I'll bet that some of you might even say "Huh? Who's Serge?" or "There is a guy named Rousseau in this story?" Anyway, here is the list of suspects and a rough outline of who they are. I hope this helps.**

**Once again, thank you for those who read my stories and reviewed them. I really appreciate those reviews. I don't mind if you praise my work or criticize it as long as it helps me further understand what I can do better the next time. Happy sleuthing! Please review.**

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**List of suspects:**

**Diana Windham--Joe's "girlfriend" who disappeared ten years ago and suddenly reappeared in Paris. Is she really the "Diana" Joe is looking for? And is she really as innocent as she seems to be?**

**Marie-Jacque Dernier--A photographer who is extremely interested in the hotel because of its "scenery." Can she be looking for something else besides trees and landscapes to take pictures of? And why does she seem so secretive?**

**Renee Frazier--The first victim, but is she the last? When she is found murdered in her own room, Diana is blamed, but the detectives then find that nobody could have committed the crime! Can it be the work of a supernatural being or a criminal who is really, really smart?**

**Clement Charlock--A retired detective has a sad past. But why did he call Nancy "Joel" when the two first met? And why did he purchase such an old house to turn into a hotel? (The answers are found in this chapter, by the way!) What is his real plan?  
**

**Nicholas Devereux--Dr. Devereux who teaches in Ned's university is strange, to say the least. The French professor who has interest in mythology obviously had something to do with the robbery that happened at the beginning of the story. Can he be a robber? Or a killer?**

**Martin Rousseau--A fashion designer, he wants a way to make quick cash...which can get him in trouble. The man with a shady past, he is determined to do anything to get what he wants. Is murder one of those risks which he is willing to take in order to achieve his goals?**

**Serge Beauchamp--A friend of Iola's father, the owner of a famous pastry shop looks like a very kind man. But because he is the only suspect who is not trapped in the hotel, he also has more opportunities to terrorize the guests. Did he really go back to his shop? Or is he still near the hotel, waiting to kill the next victim?  
**

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**  
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**Chapter Nine**

_Sans une espace_

**Without a Space**

As if reflecting the feelings of the guests, the sky began turning grayer and grayer as time passed. By the time breakfast ended, it was beginning to rain.

Nancy looked at the others and sighed, thinking about how the party started out to be cheery, and everybody was laughing, but now, there was nothing but silence.

Ned looked around the table and at the faces of the suspects.

Diana Windham sat by Joe as she ate her breakfast. Her hands were trembling slightly. Ned knew that she was the last person to talk to the actress alive, and so far, she was the most suspicious.

Marie-Jacques Dernier, the photographer, was sitting next to Diana. She was stirring the cup of coffee as if thinking about something. She looked at the sky and sighed. Then, she went back to stirring her cup again.

Clement Charlock, the owner of the hotel, sat next to Marie, with his knife and fork busily digging into the bacon and egg. He had a bowl of oatmeal by the plates with bacon, but he didn't bother eating it. It was left at the place, ignored.

Nicholas Devereux, the French professor, didn't seem to show his emotions at all. Unlike the other suspects, he was calm at hearing that a person was murdered. However, this made him as suspicious as Diana, for he never even showed a slight sign of fear or shock in hearing that there was a murderer on loose in the hotel.

Finally, there was Martin Rousseau, the fashion designer. He said he was a fashion designer, but his body resembled that of a football player. He was muscular and as tall as Ned, but last night, he said that he was too tired to stay up. This made Ned suspicious of him, since he looked like the type that has indefinite amount of energy to spare. He seemed a little shaken, but he was not trembling as hard as Diana. In fact, none of the suspects, excluding Diana, seemed to be scared. Some seemed a little worried, but nobody was shaking.

"That's strange," Ned thought. "Why are these people so calm? I can understand about Mr. Charlock, who had seen enough of dead bodies to allow him to stay quiet, but the others, who I think have never seen a dead body before in their lives, are acting way too calm for those who aren't professionals."

Frank was thinking the entirely same thing. "I wonder if they have a few skeletons in their closets," he thought. "Maybe after breakfast, I can go ask each of these people."

Frank thought about the list of suspects which he had made in his mind, but he then found one person missing: Serge Beauchamp, who was Iola's "uncle."

"Wait…" Frank thought again. "Serge never stayed in this place, but he did come to the party. That still makes him a suspect, but since the telephone isn't working and neither do our cell phones, I can't ask him any question until after we somehow get out of this hotel."

Frank's mind raced to the thought of the scene of the crime. The woman's body had no sweat whatsoever, which meant that she wasn't struggling when she was attacked by the killer. In fact, her body was facing sideways, indicating the fact that the victim actually _saw _her killer when she was strangled.

"But that makes things even more unnatural," Frank thought. "If she noticed the person approaching from her side with a rope, then why didn't she make any attempt to run away or struggle?"

He also noticed something else. The victim had no handprint on any part of her body. Because human skin is delicate, a bruise would form when something hard was pressed against the skin for a long period of time. However, the victim had no bruise or any trace of being attacked brutally.

"So she didn't even try to scream for help," Frank thought. "When a person is attacked, there is no way she can stay calm and let the killer murder her. She must have struggled. But the body and the room show no sign of a struggle. In fact, she seemed to be _allowing _the attacker to kill her."

Things were turning out stranger by the second. "And why did the killer have to make the room a completely sealed one? What was so important to show that the killer never left from the windows? And why make it so complicated?"

He thought harder. "Is it just a challenge to the detectives who were invited to this hotel, like Mr. Charlock, Nancy, and us?"

Frank then shook his head. "That can't be," he thought. "Nobody else besides Mr. Charlock, Renee, Nancy, and us knows the fact that Joe and I were staying in the hotel, so that can't be it. So does it mean the killer was trying to challenge Mr. Charlock? But why?"

"Frank?"

A voice brought Frank from his thoughts. It was Diana. "Are you alright?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. I was just thinking. Anyway, I'd like to talk to each of you sometime to check on your alibis. Is it okay if you could go back to your rooms? I will go talk to each of you by tonight."

The suspects left the room as quietly as they had come in. It was like a graveyard: no soul was at rest. The body had been moved outside, where it had been covered with plastic bags to avoid anybody's touching it. However, the guests didn't seem to care about the murder at all… Why were they so calm?

Joe suddenly thought of something. "Hey, Frank!" he said to his brother after he made sure that all the suspects left the room. "I'd like to take a look at the door of the room. Maybe there's something that can give us a hint or two."

Frank nodded.

"I'll come, too," said Nancy. "Being a detective myself, I can't just let the killer get away. I must solve this case."

The three detectives went to the scene of the crime. Putting on the gloves to avoid leaving their fingerprints on anything in the room, they started their investigation. Joe took a look at the door, which had so for long concerned him.

The door was a usual wooden door, with the thickness of about two inches. It was one of the thicker ones that Joe had ever seen, and it seemed quite impossible to break it open. He was thankful that he didn't have to do that, since it would have taken so much work if he had to tear down the entire door in order to get into the room.

There was a small space underneath the door. Joe measured the space underneath the door. It was not even wide enough to push through the room key.

"Darn it!" Joe muttered. "If the key could fit through this tiny space, then the whole trick of making this room completely sealed is easy."

Frank nodded. "Yeah. If the space could fit a key through, the killer could have gone outside, locked the door, and then used some kind of string to pull the key into the room. However, that is not possible, since the key was in the drawer of the room, which was also completely closed, and the only other spare key was securely locked hours before the victim actually died."

Joe thought about that. "And even if I could fit the key through, it's impossible to shut the drawer after locking the door and somehow returning the key into the drawer.

Frank paused for a moment. At the same time, Nancy dropped her keys onto the floor.

"Oops," she muttered, picking it up. "Sorry. I was taking my key out to see if it actually fit. But since you two already made sure that it doesn't…" She then stopped. "Wait a minute…"

"What is it, Nancy?" asked Joe, turning around.

Nancy and crouched down. She stared at the bottom of the door. "That's weird…"

"What is?" asked Frank.

Nancy pointed to the door. "Look at the bottom of the door. When I picked up my keys, I noticed that there was a small scratch mark underneath it."

"Really?" Joe also crouched down and looked at it using his magnifying glass. "Yeah, that's true."

Frank touched the door. "This door is made of a softer wood than I thought," he commented. "And I think that someone used some kind of string underneath the door."

"But for what?" Nancy wondered. "Certainly it must have been someone within the last few days. I mean, the mark seems pretty new. Someone must have used something like a thread under the door."

"And that someone must be the killer!" said Joe. "I think the killer used the string to somehow move the key inside the door and…"

"No, Joe," interrupted Frank. "Sorry to halt your imagination, but we already made sure that it's not possible to push a key through that small space between the bottom of the door and the floor. Besides, the floor is made of wood; you can't push it down like a carpet."

Joe grumbled something unintelligible. The only thing the others could manage to hear were: "Stupid floor…"

* * *

Clement Charlock was outside, feeling the cool breeze gently touch his hair. The rain had stopped, and the man was going outside to get some fresh air. The old detective was almost sixty now, and he knew that not much time was left until he found what he was looking for. 

"Joel…" he muttered just like when he saw Nancy for the first time. Taking out a locket from inside his pocket, the man sighed.

"Why have you left without me?" he murmured in sadness. He opened the locket. Inside there was a picture of a woman in her early twenties. Her hair was the color of gold with a tint of red in it, which made it look as though its color was orange. The blue eyes which sparkled like ocean at sunrise smiled happily at the camera. Her complexion was light but filled with the color of wills to go on an adventure. The face of the woman looked exactly like Nancy Drew.

Just as the man was putting the locket away, he heard a familiar voice from behind him. "Mr. Charlock?"

It was Nancy. She was standing behind the man, looking worriedly at his face. "I came to say hi, but saw you looking at something. What's wrong? You look pale."

Mr. Charlock looked at Nancy. "I…" he finally said as he turned around. "I'm fine. It's just… I remembered my past, that's all."

Nancy looked at the man. "Is that a locket?" she asked, looking at a chain that was sticking out of the man's pocket.

The detective laughed embarrassedly and took out the locket. "Yes, it is. And in it is the picture of the person whom I loved the most in my life."

"Who is it? Does 'Joel' have anything to do with it?" Nancy asked. "The first time I met you, you called me Joel, and the look on your face gave away everything."

Mr. Charlock chuckled. "I guess it's true when people say that I can't keep a straight face. Yes, the person whom I loved the most is Joel. Her name is Joel Mantelle. She was a young girl who I met when I was just a young lad in my twenties."

Taking out the locket, he showed the picture to Nancy. The girl was surprised at seeing a person who very closely resembled Nancy. She felt like she was staring at her double.

"Surprised?" Mr. Charlock asked, still chuckling. "She is very charming indeed. You see, she was an artist. She painted, sketched, sculpted, wrote, and composed. In other words, she excelled at all fields of art, from painting to composing music. Her works had never been known very well to the public, but I knew immediately that she was a jewel sparkling inside a dirty-looking rock. Even though she was talented, nobody realized that. And do you know why?"

Nancy thought for a moment. "I guess it must have been because of the gender. Because she was a woman, nobody even cared to take a look at what she did. Because she was a woman, nobody even thought that she was a genius. After all, all the 'geniuses' made famous during that period were men."

The elderly detective nodded. "You are right, my dear. But even though Joel was looked down and ignored by all the critics at that time, she was nevertheless satisfied with herself. She said that as long as she had me, her life was happy. And so was I. She was a spunky young woman and was never afraid of clearly telling her opinions about everything."

Nancy looked at the man's face. The sadness slowly began covering his countenance, and it seemed like he was remembering something awful.

"But then she left me. One day in the winter of 1968, she suddenly became sick. She died the very next month. But before she died, she looked at me and told me that she had a good news."

"What was it?" asked Nancy.

"She said that she finally finished her most important piece of art. But she never told me where. She said, 'I want you and you only to find it. It's in my house. I'm sure you will be pleasantly surprised when you find it. The keyword is my name.'"

The man stopped and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, Nancy saw that there were tears in them. "Those were her last words. I wanted to buy her house, but I had no money at that time, so I could not buy it. Besides, someone else had already decided to buy this house. I worked as a detective to find an opportunity to purchase her home. Decades later, when the new owner of the house moved away, I knew that it was my chance. I bought the estate and turned it into a hotel."

"A hotel?" asked Nancy. "So you mean that…"

Mr. Charlock nodded again. "This hotel was Joel's home. And I'm still looking for it. I'm planning to look for my love's final work of art until I die."

The rain began to fall again.

"It's beginning to rain again," Nancy said. "Let's go inside. I'm sure that the piece of art can be found if Frank, Joe, and I work with you."

"Thank you, young lady," said the detective. "Three young detectives working together are always better than an old retired detective working alone."

The two then entered the hotel, closing the door after them.

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**I hope you thoroughly enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next chapter will be even more thrilling than this one, with tons of actions to enjoy. Remember, this story is mainly focused on romance, so expect a lot of twists in the relationship between Nancy and Ned, along with (and perhaps most importantly) Joe and Diana. Please review!**


	11. Les mobiles des suspects

_**Foreword: **_**Happy holidays! At last, I have a chance to write and update this chapter. And I was itching to update, since this chapter is also one of the most exciting parts of the story. It has lots of clues about the suspects, and this chapter will end with quite a surprise... You'll have to read it to understand what I mean. I thought of updating it three days before Christmas since I think most readers are too busy on Christmas to even think of surfing the net :-) Anyway, here is the newest chapter. One of the detectives won't be appearing in this chapter, but the other characters will be playing very important roles. Be sure to leave some comments by clicking on the "Submit Review" button. (Don't worry, it doesn't hurt to click on it and type a few words in the box that appears.) Sorry for the delay, and I'll update the next chapter as soon as possible. Enjoy! Also, if you need to refresh your memory about the suspects, check Chapter Nine, where I added the list and descriptions of the suspects.  
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* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_Les mobiles des suspects_

**The Motives of the Suspects**

Joe yawned as he and Frank sat down on the bed in Frank's room. The sky was completely gray, and the rain kept becoming stronger by the minute. Also, the boys heard a lightning.

"What a vacation this turns out to be," said Joe, disappointed. "I wish I could be on TV right now."

"But with the telephone's modular cable missing, we're stuck in this place until someone realizes that we're gone."

"Do you think people at the studio will find us? I'm sure they'll think that something is wrong when the host announcer and the three guests are missing for tonight's show."

Frank shook his head. "I doubt it," he said. "Even though they know Renee's cell phone number, they can't contact her because this is out of the range of signals, and I'm sure celebrities don't easily tell people where they are staying, even to the producer. That means that even though they might notice that we're gone, there is no way for them to know where we were. We're virtually stranded for good unless a car passes by and notice us or something."

Joe sighed. "I really wish I wasn't here right now."

"But you aren't the one who was stuck in a hotel before," Frank pointed out. "It was me, Callie, and Nancy. You were in the hospital during the previous case we worked in."

Joe frowned. "Okay, so I was stuck in a hospital. Do you think that's a paradise?"

Frank sighed. "I really wish we can get out of here as soon as possible," he muttered.

Just then, Bess and George came downstairs. Bess noticed the boys and smiled. "We got some info from the guests."

"Or should I say 'suspects'?" added George.

The girls each took out a notebook with something scribbled on it. Bess was the first one to read what she found.

"Okay, so the first person we talked to was Marie-Jacque Dernier," she started. "She says that she is a professional photographer, but without Internet to look through the Web, I can't quite confirm that. Anyway, she says that she specializes in scenery and came here because all the trees were simply '_incroyable _(incredible),' to quote what she said."

"And anything else about her life or even love life?" asked Joe.

"Joe!" Frank interrupted from the side. "You shouldn't be digging around people's background too much, especially their love life."

Bess grinned. "Actually, she was more than happy to tell us her life. She was born in Nice, France, and grew up in Paris studying photography and other sorts of art. And she is quite rich, actually. She has a mansion in Paris, and I'm sure it must have cost a lot of money."

"Tons of money," George added.

Bess nodded. "I'm not sure where she's getting all that money from."

Frank thought about it. "That's true. Photographers don't usually make that much money, actually. She must have alternate source of income."

"But what can it be?" wondered Joe. "And about her… love life?"

Bess smiled broadly. "She says that she as a boyfriend right now, and that can not be happier, since she never had a boyfriend before. But she refuses to give me the name of the man who she's dating with."

Frank smiled. "I wouldn't, either, to a total stranger."

Flipping through her notes, Bess concluded, "And that's my interview with Marie-Jacque. George?" She turned to George.

The tomboy opened her notebook and announced, "Okay, so I talked with that sleazy-looking Dr. Devereux. As it turns out, he only tells me the facts which I already know, like what profession he has, what his hobby is, and where he teaches. But he did tell me where he was born. It seems like he was born in Strasbourg, the region in France famous for its winemaking. And his love life is a mystery to me."

"So that was all you could get out of that guy?" asked Joe.

George sighed and nodded. "And you won't believe how much persuading I had to do just so I could get some more info out of that geezer. He is one person who I never want to talk to again, saying how the kids these days have nothing better to do than try to pry out people's privacy." She then rolled her eyes. "As if I actually was interested in his lame old life story."

Then, Ned came from upstairs. He also talked with one of the suspects.

"Who did you talk to?" asked Frank.

Looking at his notes, Ned answered, "I talked to Martin Rousseau. And according to him, he never talked to Renee before. He had seen her plenty of times in TV and in the movies, but he never actually met her in person.

"As for his muscular stature, he explained that when he was young, he played football in his high school."

Bess remembered something about football. "Hey, isn't soccer called 'football' in Europe?"

Ned nodded. "Yes, and I was wondering if he played soccer or American football. He laughed and said that he played the latter."

"What?" Iola muttered, confused. "But French people don't play football in high school, do they?"

"Well, no. But he actually lived in America after his parents divorced when he was about five. And after that he was raised by his father, who adored football, and he decided to be a football player, since he was the best in the state. However…"

Ned paused, flipping the page of his notebook.

"Did something go wrong?" Bess wanted to know.

"Yeah. He broke his hip when he got tackled one day and landed right on concrete when he and his pals were practicing. After that, he was forced to quit the game. Needless to say, he was despaired, but then his mother returned to see him, and she suggested that he should be a designer because she immediately noticed his amazing art skills. So he decided to listen to his mother, and he became rich."

"Wow," muttered Bess. "That seems intriguing. So what about his private life now?"

Ned grinned. "I tried to ask, but he refused, which was not a surprise. So I left the room, saying that I finished the interview, and closed the door behind. But then, I stayed and eavesdropped on his muttering to himself. I found out that he at least had a girlfriend whom he was going to marry soon."

Ned then paused. "Also, when I was talking to him about Renee, I noticed how he was grinning. It seems like he is actually _happy _that Renee died. He didn't say why, but I think he has a grudge on that lady for some reason."

Frank and Joe were impressed by the information which the others got.

"But," Joe suddenly said, "we still haven't talked to Diana, Serge, or Mr. Charlock yet."

Frank answered, "We can't talk to Serge right now because the phone doesn't work. We don't have to talk to Mr. Charlock because Nancy is with him. And Diana…"

He then stared at Joe.

"What?" muttered Joe. "Me?"

Everybody nodded.

"You are the person whom Diana will talk openly to," George reasoned. "Besides, you are the one who wants to prove that she's innocent, right?"

Bess grinned mischievously. "So go to it, detective!"

With an uneasy feeling in his mind, Joe agreed to go. After he knocked on the door of Diana's room located on the first floor across the hallway from the lounge, he heard the footsteps from inside. Within seconds, Diana appeared from inside.

"Oh, hi, Joe!" she greeted warmly with a bright smile. "Come on in. I just finished making some tea."

"If you don't my barging into your room," Joe said.

"Nonsense! Nothing is better than having you as a company."

After Joe entered the door, he closed it behind him. Bess, George, and Frank all waited holding their breaths by the door leading to the hallway while Iola watched from the couch in the lounge room. Frowning, she stood up and exited the premise.

"So, can you tell me more about yourself?" asked Joe once he and Diana both were sitting on the chairs holding small cups of tea.

Iola put her cup of tea down and smiled. "Well. Where should I start?"

"From the time we parted, for instance."

Iola took a spoonful of sugar from the sugar container and put it into the cup of tea. She twirled the spoon in the drink and thought about it.

"The first years of school in a foreign country were tough for me. Especially without you, Joe." She looked up and smiled slightly at Joe. "My mom was the only source of income for us, so she went out to work all day. She was a tough woman, but she still needed some time off. So I decided to start doing jobs myself as soon as I entered high school. My favorite job was being an assistant for a teacher. It was great interacting with children. They're just so adorable."

Joe nodded. "So you still remembered about being a schoolteacher."

Diana answered with a nod. "But I couldn't help feel lonely, you know, without a father to rely on when you feel sad. My mom worked all day and couldn't spend much time with me, and I was an only child. And my father was gone for good. I was always by myself at home."

Joe watched as teardrops fell from Diana's eyes.

"I can't forgive that…" she muttered, trembling a bit. "I can't forget the day my father died. I didn't get the chance to tell him how much I loved him, how much I needed him, and how much I cared for him."

Diana wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and continued, "I'm really furious when I think about how the killer is still not caught. Killers should always be brought to light. They deserve to get punished."

"I didn't quite have such a sad experience before, so I can't fully understand how you feel," said Joe, "but I know that you can count on us."

The girl looked at Joe, surprised.

"When I go back to US," continued Joe, "I'll ask my dad to gather as much data as possible about the killing. And I can promise you that Frank and I will do our best to find out who the killer was."

Diana wordlessly looked at Joe, but she suddenly smiled brightly. She stood up and hugged Joe.

"Thank you, Joe. You're the nicest person I've ever met!"

Joe then said that he had to go and left the room.

"How was it?" asked the others once Joe got out of the room.

Joe shrugged. "I didn't get much," he replied.

The rain had stopped just half an hour later. The sun did not shine in the sky, but it was much brighter than before.

Iola felt the cool breeze touch her dark-colored hair and her soft, white skin. She was standing at the back of the hotel, looking at the dirt path that led to the abandoned shed. She then sighed.

"So much for a vacation in France," she muttered disappointedly.

She stood there, with her back to the backdoor of the hotel, and kept looking at the scenery. What a peaceful place it was! The countryside of France was far quieter than the busy city of Bayport.

Thud!

The girl felt something hard make a contact with her head. In an instant, her vision blurred, and she blacked out.

* * *

Darkness. 

That was the only thing Iola saw. As she slowly opened her eyes, she noticed a pain at the back of her head. Then, she tried to get up, but her hands and feet were tied together. She couldn't budge an inch.

"What happened?" the girl wondered, looking around.

Iola wanted to talk, but her mouth was wrapped tightly with a handkerchief. Though she could breathe, she couldn't utter a sound.

The place was dark, though she could make the outlines of the furniture in the room. There was a bed, a table, and some chairs. As she looked around the room, she noticed that she wasn't the only one there.

A shadow was sitting just four feet from her. The curtains were drawn, so Iola could not see anything besides the person's outline, but she saw that something was in his hand.

Iola was shocked to find that it was a knife.

She then saw another figure lying on the floor right in front of the person who had the knife.

"What is he going to do with that knife?" thought Iola.

The girl's fear was confirmed when the person with the knife raised his hand slowly and dropped it onto the person lying on the floor immediately.

"No!"

Iola was frightened by the sight.

"Someone is being killed!" she thought with shock. "But who?"

The girl tried her best to free herself.

"I have to get help! I have to get this handkerchief off my mouth…"

All of a sudden, the person with the knife turned around. Iola froze in fear. The person wore a ski mask, so Iola couldn't tell who it was. But the knife… It gleamed in the light pouring from the small space between the curtains, and Iola was sure there was dark red liquid on it—blood.

The person then reached his hands out and grasped Iola's neck.

He then began strangling her.

* * *

**_Postscript: _Exciting ending, especially for those who like Iola (I'm sure there are more than one out there somewhere.)****. Will Iola be killed like in the Casefiles? And what is the killer's reason for doing what he did? What did Iola see that put her in such a situation? Also, _where's Nancy? _I know that many of you are itching to know more about Nancy's second case, and I'll go more in-depth in the next chapter. More will be revealed in 2007 (I can't update until January. Sorry!). Because of my busy schedule, I can't update as often as before, but I assure you that I will end this novel no matter what, so rest assured! I'm not like some of the writers in Fan Fiction that ditch stories which they started (I hate it when they do that, especially when their plot was starting to sound _interesting_!). Anyway, I hope you had a great time reading my novels. And I'm still debating with myself whether I should write a new novel after this, or call this story the last in the series.  
**

**Happy holidays! I hope you'll spend a wonderful time. See you all next year!**

**James Stapleton **


	12. Empreintes du tueur

**_Foreword: _And here is the newest monthly installment of _Broken Promises_! I just loved the nice long winter break, which I needed because I was so tired of preparing for exams and writing papers all the time! Anyway, the new year started, but the setting of this story is still in summer! Be sure to look at the list of suspects in the eighth chapter (I think) to refresh your memories. This chapter will be another turn of events, and I hope that you will enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh, and happy new year to you all:-) Please review!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**_Empreintes du tueur_**

**Footprints of the Killer**

"So what should I do?" Nancy asked herself. "I know that Joel Mantelle's name is the key, but I don't know where to go from that point."

The young girl detective looked at her notes. "She's an artist of all kinds, from composing, writing, and painting. But she never got the chance to show herself to the world. What a sad story."

Nancy was in her room after returning from the talk with Mr. Charlock.

Suddenly, a thought came to the girl's mind. "Wait a minute…" she murmured to herself. "I was thinking that Mr. Charlock was innocent when I was talking with him. But now, after thinking more about the case, I think that he is the most suspicious!"

Standing up, she went to the scene of the crime. The body had been removed, but she could still imagine the dead body in her head. "No," she muttered as she cleared the image from her head. "I must focus."

Nancy touched the doorknob with her gloved hand. "Let's see… The killer killed Renee and went out to the corridor. He then locked the door using the spare key which the victim had and returned the key into the locked drawer. Clearly, it's obvious that such a crime can't be committed. However, if the person already had the key to the drawer, then it's very feasible. In fact, I think that only one person had the opportunity to do it."

The girl looked at the doorknob again.

"That person is the one who had the key to the drawer twenty-four hours a day. And that person could have access to all the rooms in the hotel."

Nancy nodded. That person had to be Mr. Charlock.

"If he used his key to open the drawer which had the spare key in it, then he could easily get into the room. And after he finished his task, he could put the key into the drawer, locked it, and pretended that nothing happened."

Nancy went down the stairs and into the lobby. She checked the drawer, which was right next to the fireplace, which was not used because it was summer.

The titian-haired detective smiled. "That's the only possibility."

However, she was not satisfied at all with her conclusion.

"It's too easy," she admitted. "This trick is way too simple for a person who had the will to kill a famous actress. There must be something more than just that. Think, Nancy, think!"

Sitting down on the bed after she went back to her room again, Nancy thought about the two mysteries.

"Joel Mantelle. What is her secret?"

Scribbling the name of the artist, Nancy then realized something interesting. "Wait… Mantelle… If I take the 'le' from the end, then it spells mantel! That's it!"

The girl detective quickly got up and went to the fireplace near the front lobby. "Mantel… It's the thing that frames the mouth of the fireplace. And if I'm right, the clue must be hidden behind one of the bricks that make up the mantel…"

The girl felt the frame with her fingers. Then, she felt a bump in one of the bricks. "This must be it." Taking an iron bar from the floor, she used it to pry open the brick. It was easier than she thought, and inside was a small sheet of paper hidden in a bottle.

" 'LJHR FJ EJOJHM… mot de passe est mon nom. Il va devant les autres.'"

Nancy looked at the words. _Mot de passe est mon nom. Il va devant les_ _autres_… The password is my name. It goes before the others…

"Why does Joel keep saying things about her name?" Nancy wondered. "How can I solve this puzzle? And what does Joel mean by password?"

The girl sighed. Jotting down the cryptic message, she went to the lobby and took a cup. Pouring some coffee into the cup, she sat down and drank it all up. Feeling tired, she looked around the lobby. She didn't see anybody, so she figured that the others went to talk to the suspects.

"I guess I should be doing that, too," she muttered. "But then, I've got another case to handle."

Nancy stood up and headed for her room. When she looked out the window, she saw that it was still raining. "Is it ever going to stop?" she murmured to herself.

* * *

"Where's Iola?" 

It was Joe who noticed something was wrong.

"Iola?"

Frank looked around. "Oh, yeah. She left when you went into Diana's room to talk to her."

"Really? But why?" asked Joe, confused.

Bess rolled her eyes. "Joe, you can be so ignorant about girls' feelings. She doesn't want her boyfriend talking with another girl who she thinks likes Joe just as much as she does. I know that because I've felt that way every time Dave went to talk to the girlfriend of his best friend."

"You mean Nancy?" asked Ned.

"No, the other best friend," said Bess.

"Oh…" George muttered as she understood what her cousin said. "You mean me, right?"

Bess nodded. "And Iola is just like me, only she's not blond. But that's not the case. She likes you just as much as I like Dave."

George thought about that for a moment. "Wait a sec… Didn't you and Dave break up before?"

"That was a long time ago," replied Bess, twirling her hair with her finger. "Now, he and I are just like before."

"I wouldn't consider three weeks to be 'a long time ago,'" said George.

Bess shook her head. "No, guys! We're going off-topic here! What I want to say is that Joe should talk to Iola and say that he only likes her. If not, she'll feel really depressed and anxious."

Joe seemed to blush for a little while. "Okay," he finally said. "I'll talk to her once I find her."

The detectives went to Iola's room, but she wasn't there. Wondering where she might be, they were about to turn around and look for her when Bess found something on the floor in front of the door.

"What's this?"

Picking it up, the girl noticed that it was an earring. When Joe saw it, his face turned pale.

"That's Iola's earring!"

The others looked at him in shock. "Really?" asked Frank.

"Yeah. That's the very one which I gave her for Christmas last year. I'm sure of it."

George noticed something on the earring as she took a good look at it. "I think this red spot is…blood."

The others were shocked. "Then… Could she have been attacked in front of her room?"

"We should start searching now," suggested Joe.

Suddenly, a loud bang made the detectives jump.

"It came from downstairs!" shouted Frank. "Wait… Iola's room is by Diana's room, and the sound seemed to come from the room under that. It must be…"

"Renee's room," said Joe. "Let's go see what happened."

The teenagers dashed to the door of the victim's room. It was slightly ajar, and from the space Joe could see someone lying in the middle of the room. He opened the door forcefully.

The person on the floor was Iola. Behind the girl was a window which was either left open or was opened just now. The curtain swayed from side to side, and because it was windless outside, it was evident that the window had just been opened. Also, by the place where Iola lay was a big pool of blood, but the girl was not injured.

"Frank," Joe said to his brother. "I think the sound we heard was the sound of a window being forced open."

Frank nodded. "I thought so, too." And when he went over to the window, he saw a trail of footprints leading from the window to the cabin just outside of the hotel.

"There are footprints leading from the window to the cabin," Frank observed. He noticed the tiny red spots on the ground. "These must be blood," he thought. He then ran towards the cabin.

Joe stayed inside and checked Iola's pulse. Her breathing was normal, and so was her pulse. He was glad to know that she was just knocked out.

As the girl slowly opened her eyes, Joe smiled and said, "Are you okay?"

When Iola's eyes were completely open, she gasped and looked around her. "W…where am I?"

"In Renee's room," Joe said. "But tell me first what happened."

"What happened…" Iola seemed to be searching through her memories, and when she fully remembered, she screamed.

"I remember now!" she said, bewildered. "There was a man in the room, and there was another person who lay in front of him. And the man started killing the other right in front of my eyes with a knife! Oh, it was horrible! The man stabbed the body over and over and over… Joe, I saw it! I saw a person being murdered!"

She then started crying and shivering. Joe did all he could to assure her that everything was all right.

"What's going on?" asked a voice. It belonged to Diana. She had just arrived at the door.

"Iola has been attacked by someone. And she says that she witnessed someone being killed right in front of her eyes!" explained Bess.

"And the attacker ran outside from the window," added George. "Frank is chasing him now."

Diana was shocked. "Omigosh! I sure hope Iola is okay. And I hope Frank won't get himself in trouble again."

"What do you mean," asked Ned, "when you said 'again'?"

Diana smiled. "Well, when we were kids, Frank got himself in trouble all the time. He was a really wild boy."

Bess snickered. "That reminds me of Joe."

"I guess people do change as they get older," said George.

Just at that moment, four more people came into the room looking confused. They were Marie-Jacuque, Dr. Devereux, Mr. Charlock, and Nancy.

"What's going on?" asked Marie-Jacque.

"What was that scream about?" said Dr. Devereux.

"Is anyone hurt?" asked Mr. Charlock.

Diana explained, "Iola was attacked by someone, and she also witnessed someone being stabbed to death."

"_Mon dieu_!" cried the photographer. "Is she okay?"

"I can't believe there is another murder!" shouted Mr. Charlock furiously. "There is a maniac in this hotel, and we have no way to get out!"

"But Frank is chasing the killer now," said Bess. "I'm sure he'll catch the attacker in no time!"

A few seconds later, the detective came running back from his chase. The others looked eagerly at him, wanting to know what happened. Frank's face was pale, and Joe immediately noticed something wrong. As Frank finally breathed enough air to talk, the first word he panted out was: "Dead."

Bess gasped. "You mean… The attacker is dead now?"

Frank shook his head. "No. I ran into the cabin just as I noticed that the footprints led to the cabin. When I got inside, I saw a person lying on the floor in the middle of the cabin. His hands and feet were bound together, and there was sign that the victim and the killer fought for a short while, since the place was a mess, but what shocked me most was the face of the victim."

"Who was it?" asked Ned.

"Martin Rousseau. He was stabbed on numerous parts of his body."

The others gasped. "Really? The designer was killed? Was he really dead?"

All were shocked, but it was Marie-Jacque who fainted as she heard those words.

"Ms. Dernier!" shouted Joe as he caught the woman right before her body collapsed. He then led her to the sofa in the lobby, for her shock was too great.

Frank watched as Joe carried the woman out of the room and said to the others, "But that's not the most puzzling thing."

"What else happened?" asked George.

"I looked around the cabin, but no other footprints were found. And there was only the dead body in the cabin."

Silence followed as Frank said the last sentence.

"The killer vanished."

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**Martin is dead, and the killer disappeared after leaving a set of footprints from the window of the room into the cottage. Who can the killer be? How did he disappear? More clues will be given in the next chapters, so don't miss them! From now on, I will update once every month, so be sure to check back on February 23 for an update! I would appreciate if you could leave a few words about what you think about the story so far in your review as well. Thanks for reading!  
**


	13. Le réveil

**_Foreword: _Okay, so this chapter will be extra-long because I just got rid of the biggest writer's block I've ever had! Yay:-) I'm sure this chapter will remind some of you of the first two chapters in this novel in which Nancy, George, and Bess faced a robber and a would-be killer. Do you still remember Mr. Doyle? If not, please reread the first two or three chapters, since that character will play a MAJOR role once he wakes up from his coma. So, here is the newest chapter in which Mr. Carson Drew is also going to appear (but not in France, of course. He's too busy for that). And in the later chapters, he will do some sleuthing on his own. Talk about multi-tasking for the author! (Whew!) I really hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, and you might be surprised to know that the trick to the impossible crime is explained in it. I just put TONS of stuff into this chapter, so I hope you'll write about some of the events that you liked in your reviews. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

_**Le réveil**_

**The Awakening**

"He must have traced his footprints!" suggested Bess. "Otherwise, how could he have disappeared?"

The detectives were in Iola's room discussing what the killer might have done to escape from the cabin without leaving footprints of his coming back. It was Bess who first suggested a hypothesis as to what the killer's trick was.

Joe doggedly shook his head. "No, Bess," he said. "There's no way he could have done that."

"Why?" asked George.

"Well, if you did go carrying a dead body with you, and then traced your footprints while you walked backwards, how accurate do you think your tracing will be?"

"Yes," said Frank. "I looked at the footprints and saw nothing strange, since if you missed the footprint by even a fourth of an inch, then it would show very clearly. There is just no way a person could have perfectly traced their footprints. Besides, the footprints were on mud, not on snow. Any little mistake will show up clearly on mud."

Ned then said, "What about this? He stayed in the cabin from the time it started raining to the time it stopped raining. Therefore, the footprints that he left when he went into the cabin will be erased by the rain. After he saw that it rained no longer, he walked backwards from the cabin back to the window of Renee's room."

This time, it was Nancy who opposed his thinking. "That's not possible, either," she said. "If your guess was right, then what happened to the dead body? Iola says that when she saw the victim get killed, she didn't hear the rain outside. That means the killer must have killed the victim after he got back from the cabin. And if he killed the victim then, what happened to the dead body? Unless he could fly to the cabin, there is no way he could have walked to the cabin carrying a dead body and traced his previous footprints perfectly at the same time."

"What really puzzles me," started Joe, "is why the killer went into all the trouble to knock Iola out, carried her into Renee's room, and then commit murder in front of her eyes."

"That's easy," answered Frank. "He wanted a person who saw him actually kill Martin. That's why he did that in front of her eyes."

"But why was it necessary?" asked Joe. "If nobody actually saw him killing a person, then he would still have killed Martin anyway and left those mysterious footprints behind."

Frank sighed. "He did that because he wanted people to see that he killed Martin _in Renee's room_! If he didn't kidnap Iola, then nobody could have known that he killed Martin in that room. Therefore, the suggestion that Ned made just now was valid."

"Darn," said Bess. "This killer turned out to be much smarter than I thought!"

Frank nodded. "And perfect, too. He left almost no clue behind. He must be either skilled or actually knew about detective work beforehand."

Nancy bit her lip. Frank was right, and the only person who fit into that category was Mr. Charlock, who was a detective and the only person who had access to the master key and the other key to Renee's room. He turned out more suspicious than ever

* * *

Carson Drew got a call when he was typing up his legal documents in his office when he got a call from the assistant. "There is someone on the phone," she said as she heard Mr. Drew reply.

"Please connect it to me," the attorney said.

"Mr. Drew… It's me."

Mr. Drew could not believe what he was hearing. "This can't be… Is this Mr. Doyle? Are you conscious now?"

The man at the other side of the line chuckled. "And thanks to the man who tried to kill me, I got a nice, long nap that I deserved."

Mr. Drew sighed in relief. "I'm really glad that you are awake now. How is the wound?"

"It's better now, though I still get occasional headaches."

Mr. Drew then became stern. "What did the attacker look like? This is more than just a prank. It's a serious crime."

"I know. But I don't even know who the man was because he was concealing himself so well. All I know is that he was a little taller than average."

"Any reason that he might want to hurt, or even kill, you?" asked the attorney.

"Not that I know of," replied the client. "I have been doing my business fairly and logically. It isn't likely that I got an opponent. But wait…"

After a slight pause, Mr. Drew heard the man search through something.

"I think it's because of the bank robbery that occurred at River Heights Bank ten years ago."

"Really?"

But the man seemed reluctant to talk about it on the phone. "Please understand that I don't trust phones like this. Would it be possible if you could come to my hospital room immediately? If possible, I would like you to bring your daughter with you. I heard that she was the very person who saved my life."

Mr. Drew agreed. "But I can't bring my daughter there. She's in France right now, and there is no way I can get her to come back that easily. In fact…"

The girl detective's father suddenly remembered something. "In fact, I can't contact her at all for the past few days."

Suddenly, Mr. Drew started being concerned. When he made the calls for the last few days, he wasn't concerned at all when he found that he couldn't connect her because he was so busy with doing the paperwork and catching up on his documents. However, when he actually had a time to sit down and think, he realized how odd this situation really was.

"This is quite strange," he muttered after saying goodbye to Mr. Doyle and hanging up. "Nancy was always calling me everyday when she was out of the country. She called everyday that she was out of River Heights, even. And now, not only does she not call him but he cannot reach her as well. This was not something to consider as just a mere coincidence.

Something must have happened to her.

"But if she was in a case, then she should have more reasons to call me, since I have access to all the information that not even an amateur detective can find out easily."

Mr. Drew was worried, but he couldn't do anything as long as he was in United States, thousands of miles from the place where his daughter was.

"I should call the place where she is supposed to be staying as soon as I come back," he told himself. Then, he went to his car and started driving to the hospital.

An hour later, he arrived at Titusville Hospital. After asking the nurse where Mr. Doyle stayed, he went to the patient's room. Mr. Doyle greeted him with a broad grin.

"Thank you for coming," the man said, shaking Mr. Drew's hand. "I was worried that someone could tap into my phone if he really wanted to, and cell phones aren't allowed in the hospital, so I had to make you come over here."

"Please don't worry about it," Mr. Drew said. "But please tell me what you remembered about the bank robbery."

Mr. Doyle sighed and looked out the window. The sky was as clear as the wind, and he could see no cloud at all. He then turned to Mr. Drew.

"That day, the sky was as blue and clear as today… I was the owner of River Heights Bank ten years ago. On the day of the robbery, I was standing in the bank with the customers to ensure the satisfaction of the customers. I noticed a white van park at the parking lot space closest to the door, and three men with guns came out from inside. All three were covered from head to toe with black pieces of clothing. One was wearing a ski mask, the other two wearing black caps covering their head. One of the men rushed immediately to the cash registers, while the other two held up their guns and pointed them toward the dozen people who were unfortunate enough to get trapped in that situation.

"I couldn't utter a word after I saw the gun. The first man demanded money from the cash register, and the other two threatened that if anyone moved an inch, then he was not going to hesitate to shoot. Everyone was panicked, but I told them to remain calm. The men started gathering the money, and right when I saw that one of the men turned away to look at the clock, I made my move and lunged at the robber.

"The gunman didn't notice what happened till I grabbed his gun with all the force that I had. I then pulled as hard as I could. At that moment, the gun slipped from the man's gloved hand, and he punched my stomach. I was in pain, but I managed to kick the gun away and grabbed the man's hair that was showing from beneath the cap. The robber angrily grabbed me with his hand and took out another gun from his pocket and telling his accomplice to take the gun that fell on the ground. He then twirled me around and put the nuzzle of the gun on my temple.

"'If you do a move like that again, you'll regret it!' he yelled as he threatened to shoot me with his gun. I knew that it was my end and prepared for the worst to come, but it never did.

"At that moment, a police car arrived at the scene by coincidence. The officer immediately saw the situation and called for backup. The robbers grabbed whatever they got and escaped on their van.

"The only clue that the police had was the strand of hair that I managed to grab from the head of one of the robbers. However, though they knew the DNA of the robber, they had no solid lead as to whose hair it was. The investigation went for a decade, but it was never solved, and the case will reach its limit in a week."

"A week," said Mr. Drew, "might just be enough to find out who the robber might be."

"I do hope that it's true," Mr. Doyle muttered.

* * *

"Frank," called Mr. Charlock. "Please come here. I want to talk to you."

Frank went to the old detective who was waiting for him in the lobby. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's an interesting info concerning the death of Renee."

"Do you have a new clue?"

Mr. Charlock nodded. "It's quite strange," he added. "It seems like Ms. Frazier was strangled with her own necklace."

"What!?"

"That's my observation. Take a look."

He then held up the photo of the neck of the victim. "I took it right after we found her body. And to me, it seems like the mark was made by the woman's own pearl necklace."

Frank squinted as he looked at the photo. "Yes," he muttered. "It does. If that's true, then why did the killer have to kill her with her pearl necklace? And how did he do that?"

"That," Mr. Charlock replied, "I have no idea… yet."

Frank looked at the man. "But why are you telling me this?" he asked. "Why don't you tell the others?"

The detective chuckled. "It's because you remind me of myself when I was younger, that's why."

"When you were younger? Really?"

Mr. Charlock nodded. "You look like me, you act like me, and you think like me. I think you'll be quite surprised when you see the photo of me when I was in my early twenties."

After parting with Mr. Charlock, Frank called his friends and told them to gather in the lobby. When everybody was in the hotel, he told them what Mr. Charlock told him.

"That's weird," said Bess. "Why would someone kill a person with a necklace that she wore?"

Ned kept thinking about this and suggested, "Could it have been used as part of the trick which made it possible to either kill Renee from outside?"

Nancy's eyes got round. "Of course!" she shouted with excitement. "This must be it! I remembered that I saw some kind of strange marking under the door, and it seemed like a mark left after a thread, string, or wire was passed through the space made between the door and the floor."

George then noticed something strange. "Speaking of necklace, I don't remember Renee wearing a necklace the entire time we saw her."

Bess agreed. "If she put on something like that, I would have realized. Then this must mean that someone—most likely the killer—had put the necklace on her neck and then strangled her with it. But that just doesn't make any sense!"

"The mark under the door and the pearl necklace…" Frank muttered. Suddenly, his face lit up. "I got it! I know how the killer used the string and the necklace to strangle Renee from outside the room!"

The others looked at him with surprised expression. "Tell us!" George said.

Frank explained, "First, the killer needs to tie the pearl necklace around the victim's neck. Then, he places a long and strong string, probably piano string, through the back of the necklace. Afterwards, he pulls both ends of the string up to the ceiling lamp, down through a leg of the bed, and then out from the bottom of the door. The piano string stays unnoticed from the outside because it is too thin. Then, he locks the door and brings the key to the front desk.

"The killer waits for a few hours—just to make himself a proper alibi—before going back to the room and pulling the two ends of the string as strongly as he can. The string that was attached to the necklace pulls Renee up to the ceiling. After a few seconds later, the killer pulls one end of the string to retrieve the string. The body falls down on the floor. Then, after many hours, the door is unlocked and the body is found. The time of death should be determined after the autopsy."

Iola was impressed by this explanation. "So the killer can kill the victim from outside the locked room. But why did he use a pearl necklace?"

"Just because it tends to be stronger," explained Frank. "A skinny golden one will break if too much force is applied to it. And the reason he used a necklace is because he couldn't just tie the string around the victim's neck, since he wouldn't be able to get the string back later."

Nancy nodded and smiled at Frank. "That's a great induction," she complimented. "And is seems like we have our killer."

The others looked at Nancy. "You mean, you know this just by listening to what Frank said?"

Nancy nodded with a confident grin. "From Frank's explanation, the killer must have the strength to pull a rather tall woman with just a piece of string. And that person must pull the victim up for at lease a few seconds before she chokes to death. In the suspect list, there is only person who is actually in the hotel and seems to have the strength to do such a task."

"And that person is…?" asked Bess.

"Who else can it be?" said Nancy. "Dr. Nicholas Devereux."

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**There is a major plot development in this chapter, and the remaining chapters will continue to the climax. Now, the killer is known, the murder trick is known, and Mr. Doyle's case is revealed.****But there are still many things that are yet to be explained. Be sure to check back soon! And please review. I'd appreaciate if you could leave a message about how you thought the story was so far and what you thought about this chapter. Thanks for reading. I'm back on my regular schedule, so you can expect me to update more frequently from now on:-)  
**


	14. Avantage du doute

**_Foreword: _Yay! The detectives finally have a clue who the murderer might be! The mysterious Dr. Devereux's horrifying past is finally revealed in this chapter, but there will be another shocking twist in the plot at the end. What can it be? Will the detectives find out the answer to all their questions and suspicions soon? And can they unravel the series of unfortunate events and coincidences that led to such a tragic conclusion?**

**Like dominoes, a small event that happened because of one man's greed led to a larger crime, separation of a couple, and finally, after ten years, a murder in a small hotel in France... Who was responsible for the entire tragedy? How can further tragedy be prevented? And most importantly, will Iola and Joe ever be together again?**

**Read the chapter to find out, and don't forget to leave a comment after you finish. After all, an author can't improve without his critics :-)**

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Avantage du doute**_

**Benefit of the Doubt**

"And why did you come to me ten years after the robbery took place?" asked Mr. Drew. He looked at Mr. Doyle, who was lying on the bed in the hospital room.

"It's because I met somebody," the patient answered.

"Met somebody? Who was it?"

"Dr. Nicholas Devereux," he said.

Mr. Drew never heard of the name before. Taking out his laptop, he opened up the web browser and typed the name in.

"Dr. Devereux… Is he the professor of French who teaches in Emerson College?"

The man nodded. "That's him."

Closing his laptop, Mr. Drew asked the man, "Did your meeting him made you come to me?"

The man nodded again. "I met him when I was visiting my sister's grave in France last year. The professor was with his students, taking his annual trip to France to show the students the monuments and arts in Paris. I accidentally bumped into him when I was heading to the subway. His bag dropped on the floor, and he picked them up immediately. I noticed that he had a cross-shaped scar on the back of his right hand. I tried to help him gather his papers, but as he looked at me, he suddenly showed the most shocked expression."

"Why do you think he did that?"

"I didn't know at the time. He hastily picked up all the paper before I could touch them and walked away as fast as he could. I didn't know what that was about, so I went on my way.

"It was just a month ago that I found an old photo in my attic. It was the picture of my deceased wife with her former boyfriend when they were in their late teens. I then noticed something strange about the photograph."

Mr. Drew was captivated by the tale. "What was so strange about it?"

Instead of continuing, Mr. Doyle pointed to the bag that sat by him on the nightstand. "Your daughter found this bag left behind by the burglar when she was looking through the living room after the theft. The burglar took the file which I was planning to give you, but he forgot to take the old picture with him."

The attorney put his hands into the bag and took out an old black-and-white photograph. "Is this it?"

"Yes," Mr. Doyle replied. "The girl in the picture is my wife. And she was standing by her boyfriend Joseph Reimer, a boy who was the captain of the football team in her high school. The boy was the one who surprised me. He looked exactly like the robber who threatened to kill me at the bank robbery."

"What!?" Mr. Drew was astounded. "But how do you know? They were all covered in black, right?"

Mr. Doyle nodded. "But I managed to take his scarf off from his face, which uncovered his entire countenance. I remember that face like I remember my own name. There was no mistake that the robber was this boy!"

However, Carson Drew still had some questions. "But how does that connect to Dr. Devereux?" he asked.

The man pointed to the picture which Mr. Drew was holding. "Look at his right hand," he said. "Look at the back of his hand."

The attorney looked at the boy's hand. He noticed that there was a scar on his hand. "This… This can't be!" he murmured in disbelief.

"Oh, yes, it is," Mr. Doyle replied. "And the scar looks exactly like the one on Dr. Devereux's hand."

"But what about his face? Did it look like the face of Cameron?"

"Not a bit. My guess is that he did plastic surgery to make his face look different after the robbery."

"So… This must mean that the professor was actually the bank robber and used an alias all this time? And he's an American?"

Mr. Doyle nodded.

"But if you had such an experience, why didn't you call the police and tell them about it? After all, they must still have the strand of hair as evidence. If his DNA is tested and it matches that of the bank robber's, then he can be convicted!"

A sad expression came to Mr. Doyle's face. "I can't do that," he said. "The strand of hair... It was somehow lost when the police wanted to do an analysis!"

"Impossible," muttered Mr. Drew. "Important evidence like that can't be easily lost."

"And because the strand of hair is lost, all evidence is gone. That's why I wanted you to investigate this. I actually counted on your daughter quite a bit, since I heard that she was a magnificent detective."

Mr. Drew smiled. "Thanks for the compliment about Nancy," he said, "I will do what I can."

* * *

Bess shuddered as the detectives came to the conclusion that Dr. Devereux was the killer. "I can't believe it!" she muttered. "The French professor is the cold-blooded killer?" 

Nancy thought for a second. "It seems most likely. After all, we did have suspicion that he might have been the man who burglarized Mr. Doyle's home just a few weeks ago."

"True," George agreed. "There _was_ something fishy about that man. I'm not surprised if I find a few dozen skeletons in _his_ closet!"

Frank still wasn't satisfied. "But this is just circumstantial evidence," he said. "We need solid proof, guys. Without that, all of our speculations are just speculations: nothing more. And besides, it's still likely that Mr. Beauchamp is the killer. He might have stayed hidden somewhere after he said that he had to go back. In my opinion, I do sense that he's not telling everything he knows."

"How do you know that?" Iola asked.

"I've seen more criminals that you have, Iola. And no matter how innocent they may seem to be, they are actually hiding a dark secret underneath their veil of contrived innocence."

Iola glared at Frank. "That's not possible," she said. "Uncle Serge was the kindest person I knew. He wouldn't do such a thing. I think your way of doing investigation is wrong, Frank."

"But it's a possibility. I still think he is quite suspicious. Besides, I know more about crimes than you do."

"But he's not the killer! You can't just keep calling everyone you know a murderer like that. You must first assume that everyone is innocent, and then work your way to proving that all of them actually are. And when you stumble upon a proof that someone actually committed the crime, you should have the suspicion at that moment, but still look for contradicting evidence saying that the person actually isn't."

"That's just nonsense," Frank countered, irritated. "If you don't suspect anyone to start with, how can you even begin your investigation? Believing that everyone is innocent is the proof of gullibility, and that just leads to confusion. The way all the police start their investigation is by assuming that every suspect is guilty and then go to find the evidence that they aren't."

Iola forcefully shook her had. "No, Frank. Didn't you ever hear that everyone should have the benefit of the doubt? It's absolutely cruel to see all human beings as murderers. Thinking that a person might be a killer is only when you find enough evidence to persuade even the most dogmatic judges."

Frank angrily stood up and turned around. Without a word, he left the room. Iola also stood up and walked out of the room from a different exit. The four remaining detectives were left in the lobby, dumbfounded.

"So how can we even begin to gather evidence?" Bess finally said, breaking the long pause. Suddenly, she looked around. And she looked around once more.

"Hey," she muttered. "Is it just me, or has Joe been missing for a long time?"

George and Nancy gasped and looked around. Ned also stood up. "You're right," Ned said. "Joe's missing."

* * *

The missing detective had been gathering clues. "If what Nancy said about Dr. Devereux's being the killer was right, then there must be a way to accomplish the second trick." 

Joe had actually gotten out of the lobby right after Nancy revealed her deduction. All that was on his mind was gathering evidence and solving the second puzzle.

"There must be at least some evidence left by the killer," he muttered. Just then, he heard a noise behind him. Swiftly turning around, he saw Diana standing there.

"How is the investigation going?" she asked nervously. "Are you reaching the solution yet? I…I'm afraid to stay by myself."

Joe smiled. "Don't worry. I won't let anyone hurt you. I can assure that."

"Joe…"

With that, Diana hugged Joe tightly. Joe, with a surprised expression, stood still, not knowing what he should do.

"Joe," Diana said as she finally let go, "I'm so glad you said that. I was afraid of being alone ever since my father was killed by a man in black. And the color black just gives me the chills, and I can hardly sleep a night without waking up with the horrible feeling that my father was killed the night before. I'm too depressed and stressed to make any friend, let alone going out with someone I liked."

She then looked up at Joe. She had a slight smile on her face. "But you're different. I don't know why, but I feel really safe around you, perhaps because you protected me from being attacked by a stray dog when we were little. You were more like my big brother who was really protective and trustworthy."

Joe remained silent. He knew he had a girlfriend, but he felt really sorry for Diana, who had been all alone until now.

"I know you really like Iola," Diana then said, as if she read Joe's mind, "and I know you're going back to the States. But if possible, can you send me e-mail once in a while?"

With a smile, Joe nodded. "Of course. I'll send you e-mail everyday. You're just as important to me as Iola, Frank, and the rest of my friends."

Diana nodded. She then turned around and left. Joe just stood there until he heard a noise behind him. It was Frank.

"Frank!" Joe muttered. "What are you doing here?"

Frank looked sternly at Joe. "I saw what happened."

Joe's face reddened. "You…You saw it?"

Frank nodded. "And Iola, too."

"Huh? Iola? She was here with you?"

The older detective nodded again. "She and I were looking for you to tell you what our plan was to gather evidence to show Devereux. Iola searched outside, and I searched the inside of the hotel. When I went outside to tell her that you weren't inside, I saw her running away from the back of the hotel. She was crying, Joe."

Joe was silent.

"And I went to see what happened. There, I saw you and Diana hugging each other and talking about something. When Diana left, I knew I had to talk to you about Iola."

Joe was still silent.

Frank sighed. "At this rate, you'll be lucky if she'll ever talk to you again in a million years," he added. "You know, you should really decide between Diana and Iola at this point. You just can't be two-timing."

"No!" Joe shouted. His shout was so loud Frank almost jumped with shock. "None of you understands. Iola and I are going out. That's correct. But Diana _needs_ me. She got a permanent scar in her heart because she saw her father being murdered, but she was able to recover from her shock after she met me. She and I are just friends, but we've know each other long before I knew Iola."

"So you're choosing Diana?" asked Frank.

Joe stopped and looked down at the ground. He could not answer. Why did he have to choose between two of them?

"…What would _you_ do?"

"Huh?" Frank muttered.

"What would you do? Would you choose Nancy or Callie in such a situation?"

"What!? Of course it's Callie. Nancy is just a friend."

"Is she?"

Frank stopped. "O-Of course she is. She is just a friend whom I do my investigations with sometimes. Besides, she herself has a boyfriend."

Joe looked up at Frank. "I guess you'll never understand my feeling," he said as he went back into the hotel.

"Monsieur Devereux? Vous etes la? (Are you there?)" asked Mr. Charlock as he knocked on the door. "Le the est prete. Ouvrez la porte, s'il vous plait. (The tea is ready. Please open the door.)"

No answer came from inside the room.

"What's wrong?" asked Nancy as she descended the staircase with Bess, George, and Ned.

"Oh," the owner said. "Mr. Devereux is not answering the door. And I'm not sure why he wouldn't be inside, since he asked for a cup of tea just ten minutes ago."

Nancy tried the knob. "The door isn't locked," she muttered. She then opened the door slowly. "Dr. Devereux? Are you alright?"

What she and the others saw in the room was shocking. The man sat on the bed with his eyes opened wide and staring into the space. His expression was that of a person in pain, in shock, and in despair. The front of the shirt that the man wore was smeared with dark red substance that dripped onto the bed and on the floor. It was blood.

"Dr. Devereux!" Nancy shouted as she rushed inside the room. Bess screamed in horror, and George went to call Frank, Joe, and Iola. Mr. Charlock went into the room and checked the pulse of the bloody man. However, the man was dead.

"The room wasn't locked, and the victim ordered a cup of tea just ten minutes before he died. The death is perhaps because of a gunshot wound in the chest that punctured his lung. He has no gun in his hand, and the gun is nowhere to be seen in the room," Mr. Charlock said.

Nancy, who heard the news, rushed to Ned and Bess. "We're back to starting point," she said quietly so Mr. Charlock could not hear. "Dr. Devereux wasn't the killer after all. He's a victim now."

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**Sorry about last chapter, which was filled with grammatical mistakes and using wrong words. I just wanted to update as soon as possible, since I just got rid of my writer's block. I changed the mistakes pointed out by a generous reader. I will be careful not to make any more mistake and proofread before I submit the chapter from now on. And if you find any mistake in the chapter, please tell me via your review or by messaging. Thanks for reading. I would appreciate if you could type a few comments in your review before you leave. Thanks to all of you who spent a few minutes or even seconds typing reviews, I now know what to be careful about when I write (after all, I'm only a student).**

**Be sure to check back in two weeks. Bye!**


	15. La lune mystérieuse

**_Foreword: _Revived!!!!! Okay, so I was really, really busy with all the end-of-the-year projects and essays and papers and tests and all other kinds of homework imaginable. Just a normal part of being a high schooler, I suppose. And I also had the greatest Writer's Block that I've ever suffered. I was stuck because I found out recently how many contradicting points were in my plot! So I had to spend a month revising my plot, and now, it's more smooth yet still as complicated. I promise you that there won't be any loose end in the end (oops, bad pun), and I promise that I _will_ finish this story no matter what. Contrary to what you might think, the mystery is still halfway over :-) The reason is that the part which you have read so far (the part where the detectives are stuck in a hotel) is just the first half of the entire plot of intrigue and mystery! There will also be more romance to further complicate the matter. In other words, this story will continue for at least another seven to eight chapters! But don't get surprised by that yet. The changes that I made to the plot also includes TONS of false leads, misunderstanding, and twists, so the detectives will be baffled even more! Since this may as well be the last mystery that I will write, I decided to expand this story to include many "Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys Super Mysteries" elements that made the originals really interesting. So don't stop reading. And please don't hesitate to state your opinion in your reviews. Happy reading!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

_La lune mystérieuse_

_**The Mysterious Moon**_

Joe and Frank heard the scream. "It's Bess!" Joe muttered. "Did something happen?" They were just outside the hotel, unknowing that another murder had taken place inside the building.

"I sure hope not," said Frank. "Two murders are enough for one hotel."

As they made their way past the road leading to the cabin, Joe stopped. "What is that?" he murmured, squinting his eyes to see something. He was sure he saw something glitter just now, and he went to the place where the glitter came from to see what it was.

When he got there, he found a small broken locket nearly buried in the ground which was still very wet from the storm that had swept the place just a few hours ago. He took the locket out with his gloved hands and observed the inscription.

"_Ma cherie_… _MR._"

Joe didn't even wonder about what it meant. It was a gift to a loved one from a person with the initial MR.

"Wait. MR…? Martin Rousseau?"

This was interesting. Seeing how the locket was dropped on the way from the main building to the cabin, Joe was sure that the person who had dropped this was on the way from the hotel to the cabin. And seeing the mud around the locket, he could tell that the person had dropped the locket during or after the storm.

"Which means one thing… There is a possibility that the person who dropped this was very close to Martin and also had something to investigate or hide in the cottage."

"Joe!" Frank called from behind. "What're you doing? Hurry up!"

"Okay!"

Joe then pushed the locket into his pocket as he stood up and rushed after Frank to see what the matter was inside the hotel.

Once inside, they were as shocked as the others when they saw the body of Dr. Devereux. Observing the place where the man was stabbed, Mr. Charlock announced that the murderer stabbed the man's left lung. Thinking that he had stabbed the victim in the heart, the killer escaped, but he didn't know that Dr. Devereux was still alive.

"You see, it's a very common misconception," Mr. Charlock said. "In TV shows, the killer is said to have stabbed the heart when he stabbed the left part of the chest, but in reality, the heart is located in the middle of left and right lung. Therefore, the victim still had time to leave a message after he was stabbed, though he most likely suffered a slow and painful death as he was unable to breathe because his lung was punctured."

Bess shivered. "How horrible!"

The detectives watched as Mr. Charlock put a white sheet over the body which was not yet stiff, proving that Dr. Devereux was the person who had in fact ordered a cup of tea delivered to his room just ten minutes before. But this fact bewildered the young detective, who were so sure that Dr. Devereux was the only one who had the capability of committing the murders. It just _had_ to be him.

"This is terrible," Nancy moaned. "And I was so sure I was close to getting the answer."

Ned patted the girl detective's shoulder lightly. "Don't worry. I'm sure the mystery isn't over yet. I'm sure you'll find plenty of clues that point to a new direction."

"But this is just too strange," muttered Bess. "Why would a person be killed just after he was being suspected of killing two people?"

George nodded. "This _is_ strange. Can this be just a coincidence, or—"

"Or part of the scenario written by the killer," murmured Nancy. She went to the bed where Dr. Devereux was leaning against when Mr. Charlock carried the body to the freezer with help from Frank, Joe, and Ned. The rest watched in shock as another victim was carried to the freezer.

"This can't be happening!" shouted Marie-Jacque in despair. "I don't want to be trapped here with a murderer!"

Diana looked pale, and she looked at Joe worriedly. "Do you… Do you think we'll be all right?"

Joe didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

After the hotel was silent once again, Mr. Charlock sighed and went to his room. "I must take a few hours off, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm too old for this kind of detective work anymore. I'm counting on you to find at least some clue. Or better yet, help me find a way out of this place, if possible. Please tell me if anything happens. I will taking a light nap in my room."

The detectives promised that they would tell him, and as soon as the door closed, Nancy sprang into action like a cheetah waiting for his prey. She went to the bed which the body was leaning against and gestured for the others to come.

"You guys! I found something interesting!"

The rest of the detectives went to see what it was. What Nancy was pointing to was a picture of a crescent moon drawn with blood on the bed sheet right by the big pool of blood.

"What is this?" asked Bess. "Do you think the victim drew it?"

Nancy nodded. "It's most reasonable to think that. I think that Dr. Devereux was still alive when the killer hastily left the place, but he was afraid that the killer might return and erase whatever he wrote if he wrote the person's name down on the bed sheet. Therefore, he must have thought of a different way of telling us who the killer was by drawing this picture of a waning crescent, a crescent moon with the right three-fourths of the moon's surface was covered in shadow."

"But what can it mean?" asked George. "We don't have anyone who has 'moon' in his or her name. Or 'lune,' if you think in French."

"Moon…" muttered Frank. "Could it be…?"

Suddenly, as if to pierce through the detective's thought, the noise that everyone at the hotel hadn't heard in days rang loud and clear. It was the ringing of the phone.

"What!?" shouted George, bewildered. "Is it really the phone? It works?"

Nancy was the first one who reached the phone, for she was the one located closest to the phone. As she hastily picked up the receiver like a miner picking up a nugget of gold, she answered with a shivering voice: "Allô?"

"Oh, Nancy!" a very familiar voice answered in fluent English. "Oh, my goodness! I've finally reached you after so many days of having no response from you! Are you okay?"

Nancy nearly burst into tears with happiness. "Oh, I'm doing better than ever now, Helen. I'm so grateful to hear your voice."

"Are you _really_ okay?" asked Helen, who sounded more worried than before. "Did something happen at the place where you're staying? All I got from you is the message telling me that you were going to stay in a hotel outside of Paris for a night, but after I didn't even get a phone call from you in two days, I got really worried. I knew the phone number of the hotel which you were staying in, but the police refused to help me look for you, since you weren't missing for a certain number of days."

Nancy nodded, still smiling. "Anyway, I have to hang up now. Now that I know that the phone works, I have to make a lot of phone calls. The first one is to the police who refused to cooperate. With this phone call, I'll bet they'll get really excited."

* * *

The next hours were the busiest in Nancy's life. The police asked numerous questions about what happened in the hotel and how they were involved in the murders—in English, of course, but occasionally with some French when they were talking very fast. She had taken a few years of French class, but this interrogation was more than what she had learned in high school French. And now, she pretty much regretted the fact that she didn't learn how to answer questions properly when she was being interrogated by the police. 

The girl detective sat down at a table with the rest of her friends when the interrogation was finally over—for now. She ordered some coffee to keep her energy up, but when she took a whiff of the coffee that was served at the police station, she decided to simply get a can of coke at the nearby vending machine. The others did the same.

"So all's well for now," said Ned.

"Grammatically, that should be 'all's good,'" corrected Nancy. "But I'm not sure if it's going to end well."

Bess agreed. "Yeah. I mean, this series of murders has been like a roller coaster ride at the Six Flags; just when we reach what we thought was the top, we're pushed to the rock bottom in a snap of a finger."

George chuckled. "How poetic," she said. "I'm sure that came from your creative writing course that you took when you were in junior high?"

"But now, we have the chance to investigate more into the backgrounds of the three suspects," said Nancy.

"Four," said Frank. "Don't forget the bakery owner, Serge Beauchamp. In my opinion, he is the most suspicious suspect in the crew, since we don't know his alibi yet."

At this, Iola gave an angry glare at Frank. She then stood up. "I have to call my parents," she said as she left the cafeteria. "I promised to call them everyday, but I haven't called in two days. Now is the time for me to explain the entire disaster to them."

Nancy gasped as she heard this. "Shoot. I have to call Dad. I also promised the same thing, and since I didn't call, he's going to be so mad at me and worried at the same time."

"Hey, if you're lucky, you won't be grounded for a month. Maybe a week after you go back to River Heights," George said with a grin.

Nancy called her father right away, and when Mr. Drew answered the phone, he sounded as though he has just finished running a mile. "Hello!?" he nearly shouted into the receiver.

"Whoa! Take it easy, Dad!" said Nancy with a chuckle. "You were worried, weren't you?"

"Of course I was!" shouted Mr. Drew. "What were you doing? You haven't called for weeks!"

"It's just two days, Dad," returned Nancy with a chuckle. It felt sooooo good to hear her father's voice after two stressful days!

"And I was so worried I could hardly concentrate on my research about this certain Nicholas Devereux, who I think is the person directly responsible for attacking Mr. Doyle and almost killing your friend!"

"What? Did you say Nicholas Devereux?"

"Yes. What about him?"

"I know this person. In fact, he was killed recently in this string of murder cases which took place during the last two—"

"What!!??" Mr. Drew shouted over the phone. "Did you say murder? And here I was, telling you NOT to get into any trouble while you are in a foreign country, and you poked your head into a murder case?! Young lady, if you don't come back in two days, I will seriously consider grounding you until you go to college!"

Nancy winced. "Sorry, Dad," she apologized, feeling a little shaken after hearing her father sound so angry, "but I didn't get involved in this case because I wanted to. You see, I was in this hotel located in the middle of a deserted forest, and I just happened to be stuck there with the phone not working and a serial killer stuck in the storm with us in the building. That's why I couldn't call you."

Mr. Drew's voice was now a little calmer; now that he knew that his daughter did not ignore his warnings, his anger and shock seemed to evaporate. "I'm glad," he muttered. "But I still want you to come home as soon as possible. I might actually need your help in solving this case, since I don't think I have enough energy to go prowling around the scenes of the crime like you. I remember the days when I was just as energetic as you. I used to venture everywhere…"

"Enough with the talks about the olden days, Dad," Nancy interrupted. "But I really want some information about Nicholas Devereux. In order to solve the murder cases in France, I need to know what he did in America. Please tell me!"

Mr. Drew sighed. Noticing the determination in his daughter's voice, he went through his files to find the folder in which he put all his documents about what had happened ten years ago. He then explained the entire thing to his daughter, including the fact that Mr. Doyle was actually taken hostage in the bank robbery and that one of the robbers was Nicholas Devereux.

"I see…" Nancy muttered as she finished scribbling down what her father had told her. She then looked at the clock. It was already past dinnertime. "I will call you later," she said. "Right now, I think my friends and I should go grab something to eat. It's 9 already."

"But can you find someplace to eat? I don't want you eating MacDonald's or other fast food very often."

Nancy chuckled. "It's alright, Dad. The thing is, French people eat dinner very late, sometimes as late as ten o'clock. That's why most of the fine restaurants open at eight. So basically, now should be the dinnertime in France."

Mr. Drew laughed. "It's good to know you're already getting used to their customs. Anyway, I wish you luck on the case. Also, be sure to stay safe, okay? Every time I hear that you got into a murder case, one gray hair grows on my old head."

After the girl detective hung up the cell phone, she asked the others where they would like to go eat dinner. Though Bess, who was a gourmet and had researched a lot on fine dining in Paris, suggested dozens of excellent yet reasonably-priced restaurants, it was Iola who suggested that they go to Croissant Pâtisserie, which was the pastry shop owned by Serge Beauchamp, to eat dinner.

"Huh? But isn't that a pastry shop? Are you planning to have pastry for dinner when there are tons of better foods out there?" Bess asked a little aggressively, since she wanted to go to her restaurants so badly.

Iola smiled. "No problem. Though it says it's a pastry shop, it's also a three-star restaurant. I've been there before, so I can assure you of its quality. And I want to see Uncle Serge really badly, since I know that he's innocent, unlike _some_ people." She then gave a cold stare at Frank, who chuckled nervously.

"Come on, Iola. I just suggested that he _might_ be the killer."

"But not suggesting that he _might_ be innocent," Iola countered. "Anyway, I know how to get there. Since the police questioning is over for now, we can go investigate on our own, can't we?"

* * *

Paris at night was beautiful. The illuminated Eiffel Tower was more splendid than Nancy imagined, although she had just gone to Paris less than a year ago in _The Mystery of the 99 Steps_. She adored the Parisian landscape, and the lights that were turned on after dark were more mysterious and fascinating than the lights that she saw in New York City when she visited there occasionally. The beauty of the scene amazed Nancy so much that Bess and George had to pull her into the restaurant. 

Once inside, the detectives were welcomed personally by the main chef of the restaurant—the one and only Serge Beauchamp.

"Bienvenue, mes amis! I have a booth reserved for a group of tourists, but since they never came, I will let you have the booth seats. And I'm sure you will be fascinated by it, since the booth is always reserved. Enjoy your dinner."

Inside the booth, the detectives understood why he said that the booth was always reserved. The room was surrounded by soundproof walls, and there was a soft background music playing. And there was a large glass window that covered most of the walls, therefore allowing the guests to observe the fantastic landscape of the City of Lights. And to the detectives' amazement, the dishes that they ordered were very delicious, with no dish too oily or salty. The full-course meal was more than anyone—even Bess—had hoped for. Within minutes after the dinner had been carried, they found themselves talking and laughing as they enjoyed their meal. After they finished the enjoyable dinner, the teenagers had once again regained their mood as tourists.

Iola went out of the booth to go to the washroom. A few seconds after she left, desserts were carried into the booth by Mr. Beauchamp. The teenagers thanked him for such a delicious repast. Smiling his usual kind smile, Mr. Beauchamp said that he was glad to be of service.

"By the way, why did you not visit yesterday?" he asked. "Iola told me to have this booth reserved for yesterday night, but you guys never came!"

The detectives looked at themselves, puzzled as to what they should say. It was Nancy who spoke out, "We were in a case."

"A case?"

"Yes. In a hotel that we happened to stay in, three people were killed. Renee Frazier, Martin Rousseau, and Dr. Devereux were all killed in the last two days. And we couldn't make a call because the modular cable of the phone was taken by the killer."

"But apparently it was placed back just this afternoon. That's why we were able to call the police."

Mr. Beauchamp gasped as he heard this news, and he muttered, "Mon dieu! And you people are trying to find the killer?"

Ned nodded. "I believe that the killer may be among the people that were trapped in the hotel."

"Well… I hope you can enjoy the rest of your stays in France. Please be careful."

"Thank you," Nancy said with a smile. "I'll see to it that the killer be caught."

After the chef had left, Iola came into the room. She sat down and began eating the dessert. "By the way," she said, "I just saw Uncle Serge get out of the booth. What did he say?"

"Oh, we were just telling him the reason why we couldn't make it yesterday," answered Bess. "He was awfully worried and told us to be careful."

Iola stopped her fork. The others looked at her quizzically.

"What's the matter?" Joe asked worriedly.

"Did he find out that those three were killed?" she asked, her eyes still focused on the dessert.

"Uh-huh," answered George. "That's why he was really concerned about our safety."

Iola put her fork and knife down on the table silently. "I…I can't believe it."

"What? Is something wrong?" asked Joe.

Iola nodded. Then, she looked up with a horrified expression. "When I saw Uncle Serge, he didn't seem worried at all. He was grinning!"

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**Another interesting plot twist comes into play here. Everyone is beginning to seem more and more suspicious. Can it be that they are all somehow involved in this tangled web of love, hatred, and greed? How can the bank robbery that happened ten years ago be related to the current murder case? And why did Mr. Beauchamp grin??? The mystery will continue. Compared to Part I (Hotel), Part II (Paris) is going to be full of action and suspense, compared to mostly mystery and romance in Part I. Will the detectives find the killer? Or can there be more than one killer? How can they track the killer down? And what is going to happen to Diana and Joe???**

**To find the answers, continue to read: _Broken Promises _Part II (Paris)!  
**


	16. Une raison secrete

**_Foreword: _Yikes. I think I chose the wrong time to update the story, since I'm sure everyone is busy with before-summer work and exams. And people were so busy they didn't have the time to review my story (T--T). Oh, well, since it's summer vacation now, I'm sure people will be able to take a few minutes and give me a review of the story. And I'm also excited because there is nothing better than summer! Well, besides, Christmas, but that's great in another way. I hope my readers haven't abandoned this story just because I was unable to update for a few months, and I'm hoping more people will be able to leave a little comment afterwards.**

**Here is a little warning about this story. It's very C-O-M-P-L-I-C-A-T-E-D. I'm sure this will be one of the most complicated Nancy Drew stories that you have read, since nearly everything mentioned in the story will be connected to the plot, from something as obvious as the bank robbery that happened ten years ago to something as seemingly unconnected to the main plot as...well, that's for the readers to find out! I suggest that you read over from prologue because I put a vital clue in the prologue that will be really helpful in understanding the plot later. Just a thought.**

**Also, if you have no idea who the people mentioned in this story are or forgot about them because silly old me wasn't able to update for two months, please read the foreword of _Chapter Nine_ (no, not the ninth chapter, but actually the tenth because chapter title excludes prologue), where I wrote the characters' names and summary, just like in the Nancy Drew Files series (which happens to be one of the two spin-off series that I actually approve of, since the others like On Campus, Notebook, Clue Crew, and Girl Detective are not worthy of even having the name Nancy Drew in them! The other series that I approve of is ND-HB Super Mystery.).**

**Thank you for having interest in my story and please leave a few words (even a word is fine) in your review. Have fun!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Une raison secrete_

_**A Hidden Reason**_

The group was silent for a while.

"That's strange," Joe finally muttered. "Why would he grin when he heard that those three were killed?"

"Boy, this case gets more confusing by the minute!" Frank muttered, scratching his head. "Dr. Devereux seemed strange, and now Mr. Beauchamp seems strange. What's going on?"

"This proves one thing," said Nancy. "Mr. Beauchamp has a reason to want to kill those three people, or at least one of those people. Or, in the worst case scenario, he might actually be the killer. The fact that he was grinning right after he left the room can be taken because someone he hated was finally killed, or because he couldn't hide the satisfaction that he had actually killed those people…"

"Stop it!" shouted Iola. "Please stop! I don't want him to be the killer! I don't want someone I love so much to actually be the cold-blooded murderer!" She then covered her ears and closed her eyes, her entire body trembling slightly.

Joe looked worried as he sat there, not knowing what to do to comfort her. "Iola…" he started to say. But before he could finish his sentence, the girl stood up and ran out of the booth.

Joe immediately followed Iola, and when those two were gone, the room became completely quiet once again.

"What's going on?" muttered Nancy. "I can't believe this. I can't get the hang of the situation at all. This case…It's just made of too many twists. I can't even begin to grasp the basic idea."

Ned hugged Nancy lightly. "It's okay. You're a great detective. I believe in you. And I believe that you can solve any complicated mystery that you might encounter."

Nancy smiled. "Thanks, Ned. But…"

"But…?"

"But we shouldn't get so intimate in front of so many people."

"Oh."

Ned looked around. Frank was pretending to look out the window behind him. Bess was pretending to cut her dessert using her knife and fork, even though the only dessert that was left on her plate was ice cream. George, on the other hand, was staring at the two lovebirds with a mischievous grin on her tomboyish face.

"I wouldn't mind if you two just went on and kissed each other. It's the city of romance, after all, and we're having the Eiffel Tower as the backdrop," she said with a snicker.

Nancy blushed a bit. "We're done with the intimacy for today!" she said with a grin. "So, back to the topic…You two can look here now." She looked at Frank and Bess, who then looked at Nancy.

"Wow, that was too hot for this room," Frank said with a chuckle. "Anyway, my idea is that Mr. Beauchamp hadn't gone to the pastry shop but remained somewhere around the hotel to find a chance to kill those three people."

"But won't that be too simple?" asked Nancy. "If that were the case, then his plan would be revealed easily once the police see that he has no alibi for two whole days. Besides, wouldn't the victims be surprised to see him visit their rooms? I mean, if he happened to visit, then they would make him call the police before letting him into their rooms. Also, if he were hiding somewhere in the forest, then how did he make himself invisible or disappear after he killed Martin? We all know how the killer stabbed the victim to death in front of Iola, and then carried the victim to the cabin, since Iola remembers that it was raining very hard when she saw the killer murder Martin. Martin's body was not wet when he was found, according to Mr. Charlock, so it means that the killer didn't carry Martin's body to the cabin but rather carried the body to the hotel room after killing the victim, and then carried the body back to the cabin and went back to the hotel, leaving only one set of footprints." Nancy paused. "Is this even possible?"

Ned shook his head. "I'm guessing that we still have quite a few clues that we actually overlooked. Did you find anything, Frank?" he asked, turning to Frank.

Frank thought about it for a while. He was about to say no when he suddenly remembered something. "In fact, yes," he answered. "Joe and I found a locket on the trail leading to the cabin. The inscription said '_Ma cherie…MR_,' so I guess it's a gift from Martin to his girlfriend, apparently."

"Okay…" muttered Nancy. "In that case, I think the most suspicious is the person who actually dropped the locket, right?" she asked.

The others nodded.

"And according to what I observed, the only person who might be Martin's girlfriend or someone like that is Marie-Jacque."

Frank nodded. "I agree. Though she doesn't say it, it's pretty obvious by seeing how she was about to faint when she heard the news that Martin was dead. Based on that assumption, I suppose the person who dropped it is Marie-Jacque Dernier, and the only reason she could have dropped that locket was because she was heading from the hotel to the cabin—or vice versa—in a hurry. And the only reason she would be in a hurry—"

"—Is because she has to get to the cabin or the hotel really quickly after she had done something," concluded Ned. "So far, the most suspicious people are Marie-Jacque and Mr. Beauchamp. When do you think is a good time to investigate their background and talk to them privately?"

"I suppose tomorrow morning," said Nancy. "After breakfast, we will divide into two groups, and each group will investigate either Marie-Jacque or Mr. Beauchamp."

"Deal," said Frank. "By the way…"

"What?"

"When do you think we should tell this to Joe and Iola?"

* * *

Joe found Iola standing outside the hotel, illuminated by the bright light cast from the streetlamps that were placed every ten yards on the sidewalk. Her dark straight hair glittered like blue sapphire as she turned around to face her boyfriend. 

"Sorry" was the first thing that came from her mouth. Then, turning to face the Eiffel Tower once again, she sighed. "I shouldn't have acted so angrily just then. I just really liked Uncle Serge, since he was always there for me since I was little. Though I haven't seen him for a long time, I called him or emailed him every month to tell him how I was and what problems I had in school. Though he was busy all the time, since he was both restaurant chef and a pastry shop owner, he always answered my calls and gave me advises as to what I should do. He was just like an uncle that I never had…"

She then began to sob. "I can't imagine that someone that I trusted so much could actually turn his back on me. I just fell so terrified. If a person whom I considered to be my uncle for a long time has just recently betrayed your feelings, then what can happen to a more important person?"

"A more important person?"

Iola nodded. "Like you."

"Oh."

It was awkward. Joe didn't know what to say and just stood there at the entrance of the restaurant, staring continuously at Iola's face, which was covered with her hands. She continued to sob.

"I was afraid. I was afraid that you might actually leave me, after all the time that I spent with you and after all the times that I told you how I loved you. I was just too scared to think about it. I didn't want anybody to betray me…"

Iola wiped her tears. But before she could look at Joe again, she felt him hug her tightly and passionately.

"I won't do that," said Joe. "It doesn't matter how many years I've been with you. If I knew that I loved you, I wouldn't do anything that is dishonest. Because I love you, I know that telling lies will not improve anything. To see if you truly love me, I had to tell the truth all the time and see what you would think."

Iola was quiet.

"Hey, remember the time when I told you that I wore a girl's dress for Halloween when I was in first grade?"

Iola nodded. "You told me that when I accidentally ruined my costume which my dad had made just for me. I was crying because I ruined the costume that Dad gave me, and it was you who stopped my tears with that joke."

Joe grinned. "That wasn't a joke."

Iola looked up. "So that was what you really wore for Halloween when you were in first grade?"

Joe nodded, a little embarrassed.

With that, Iola began to smile. At first, she was just grinning slightly, but then she began to giggle, and when the two went back into the restaurant, both of them were laughing like they had just heard a great joke.

* * *

Helen hugged Nancy just as Nancy and her friends opened the door of Helen's house. With a big embrace, Helen tearfully grasped both Bess and George in one hug, making their eyes pop open wide with surprise. She then hugged Iola just as hard. Helen was a woman tall for her age, and her hug was as strong and loving as Ned's. She then kept on hugging them without saying anything for a few more seconds until one of the foursome—who Nancy presumed to be Bess—said that she had trouble breathing because Helen had hugged her so hard. 

"Oh, sorry," Helen apologized, letting go of her friends. Nancy saw Helen for the first time after two days, and for some reason, it seemed like she hadn't seen her friend in years! The tall woman who reminded Nancy of the image of Rosie the Riveter then led them to the living room, where she had prepared a small snack and four cups of cold and refreshing iced herbal tea. "Sit down, please. I won't let you go to your rooms until you tell me exactly what had happened. I was worried so much I thought about calling the police if you didn't answer that call!"

Nancy grinned. "Well, I'll tell you once we sit down," she said. "But believe me; you will be really, really surprised."

As the girls sat down to talk, Nancy explained to her friend what had happened at the hotel. Helen was so surprised she could not keep her mouth shut. "Oh, my god," she muttered. "Oh, my god!"

Iola nodded. "That's what I thought when I first saw the body, too."

"I can't believe it! I've heard from Bess and George how much you have been in such a situation, but this is the first time which I heard that you were involved in a _murder_! Are you sure you don't need to go home, Nancy?"

"That's a silly thing to say to Nancy," Bess said with a chuckle. "She's out there to solve a mystery. In fact, I think that she won't listen to you even if you tried to convince her to go home. Right, Nancy?"

"Huh?" Nancy asked, apparently in deep thought.

"See what I mean?" said Bess, turning to Helen with a chuckle.

"No, I was listening," Nancy said with a laugh. "But the thing is, I have actually three mysteries on my hand now, not two."

"Two?" George asked. "Let's see… You are trying to solve the murders, and you're also investigating who attacked Mr. Doyle in United States. But what else are you investigating right now?"

"I haven't told you girls this, but I was told by Mr. Charlock that he had a girlfriend who was an excellent artist who was good at doing any form of art. But she died at young age, and she left the rest of her works somewhere in the hotel, which was her house when she was alive. And Mr. Charlock wants me to solve a piece of puzzle to see what she might have left him."

"What is the puzzle?" asked Iola.

"I don't know what it might mean, but it's a coded message with a message which was not coded stating that Joel Mantelle—that's the name of Mr. Charlock's girlfriend—is the password that goes before others."

"…Huh?" Bess seemed clueless.

"That's a strange message. What can it mean?" asked Iola. "Can I see the message?"

Everyone seemed clueless, but one person seemed to know what it was. That person was Helen.

"Wait. I've heard of this before," she muttered. The other detectives looked at her with surprised expression.

"Really?" Bess asked. "Wow, you're more of a detective than I thought!"

Helen smiled. "And I think that this is quite an easy piece to crack. The password is the 'keyword.' This code must be in keyword cipher!"

"Keyword cipher?" the others asked.

"Yeah. I used to go to this camp during summer until two years ago at the Moon Lake. Do you remember going there then, Nancy? I remember how you've experienced terrible sunburn that day!"

Nancy chuckled uneasily. She still hadn't told her friend of how she was trapped in the middle of Moon Lake with no gasoline in the motorboat when she tried to go to the Topham bungalow in search of clues during her first mystery that she had solved, _The Secret of the Old Clock_. But now, the event simply sounded too funny to try and explain when she imagined herself sitting in the middle of the lake with no gas or water, totally dehydrated and badly sunburned.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I did too many activities that day, and it seems like I forgot my sunscreen that day."

"Anyway, during the camp, Jenny happened to have a puzzle that she wanted us to solve, and when we couldn't solve the puzzle, she told us how to do it." With that, Helen took out a sheet of paper and a pencil. She then scribbled the alphabet on the paper.

"According to what she said, the keyword is the word that replaces the first letters of the alphabet. The rest of the alphabet goes after the word, therefore making a new alphabet."

She then wrote her name down. "See, when a keyword such as Helen Corning Archer has many repeating letters, you just ignore the repeating letters and continue writing the alphabet."

Helen then wrote her name without the repeating letters: HELNCORIGA. "And afterwards, you write the rest of the letters following the keyword."

She scribbled the following letters: HELNCORIGABDFJKMPQSTUVWXYZ. "Therefore, A would be H, B would be E, C would be L, and so on."

"I get it now," Nancy said, nodding as she understood the message. "So this is what Joel wanted us to do.

On another sheet of paper, Nancy wrote the alphabet which she had just rearranged: JOELMANTBCDFGHIKPQRSUVWXYZ. Then, using this as the key, she decoded the message. Now, unlike the first time, she saw how each piece of the puzzle fit perfectly into the key alphabet.

"So L is D, J is A, H is N, R is S…"

After all the letters had been translated, the girl detective read the message.

"Dans la cabane. LJHR FJ EJOJHM is deciphered as 'DANS LA CABANE,' or 'in the cabin' in French."

"A cabin, huh?" said Iola. "Do you think it means the cabin outside the hotel?"

Nancy nodded. "I think so. And because Mr. Charlock would never destroy something left behind by his loved one, I'm sure this message refers to the gift which still remains in the cabin!"

When Nancy finished her drink, she noticed how late it was. It was almost eleven o'clock, and she and her chums were feeling really tired, so they decided to call it the day. They knew that they had to wake up a little earlier tomorrow to start their investigation. Also, Nancy couldn't wait to sleep in a room other than the hotel room in which she stayed for the past two days. She hated the gloomy atmosphere of the hotel, though she didn't hate the hotel itself. It was what happened in the hotel that caused everyone to act tense, and nobody seemed to want to talk to each other afterwards.

After Nancy took a shower, brushed her teeth, and changed into her pajamas, she jumped onto her bed and fell fast asleep.

* * *

"Nancy Drew." 

Serge Beauchamp typed this term into a popular Internet news database. He found many articles dealing with the mysteries that the girl detective had just solved, with self-explanatory case titles such as "The Secret of the Old Clock," "The Hidden Staircase," "The Bungalow Mystery," and "The Mystery at Lilac Inn," all of which were named by the famous girl detective herself. Also, on the River Heights High School website, it stated the various awards that she had gotten as a student, including a second prize at Regional River Heights Karate Tournament when she was in sixth grade and a grand prize at tap dancing competition, which she caught the judge's attention when she tapped Morse code with no change in rhythm.

"Frank and Joe Hardy."

This search also turned up with many cases, such as "The Tower Treasure," "The House on the Cliff," and "The Secret of the Old Mill." On the Bayport High School website, it was apparent that they excelled in almost everything. They got straight-A honor rolls every single semester, achieved a grand prize at skiing competition, a first prize at fencing, and a second prize at swimming. They were also in all kinds of sports and other extracurricular activities, including even a semester at Chess Team and another semester at Math Team.

"This can be trouble," Serge Beauchamp grumbled as he closed the windows that popped up on the screen of his computer. He then shut down the computer and went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

"How can I keep them from getting in my way?" he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee, which was as black as the computer screen. He looked at the Parisian landscape with dozens of lights shining everywhere like the Milky Way. As he opened the refrigerator door to get a carton of milk, a picture which was pasted to the refrigerator fell off. Without a word, he took the picture and stared at it. Then, as if he saw something disgusting, he crumpled the photograph and threw it into the garbage bin. He then left the kitchen, turning off the lights as he left.

In the picture were two middle-aged men and a little girl who was about six years old. On the back of the photograph was a note: "Nicholas, Dennis, and his daughter Diana."

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**I told you it's going to be complicated:-). The characters have more connections to each other than just people who happened to be stuck in the same hotel for two days, and the relationship is more tangled than that in _Haunting Memories_! Be sure to check back next week for the next installment of this novel.  
**

**Because I said that I would update in two weeks but ended up updating two months later, I feel really guilty of lying to my readers, most of whom must have probably given up waiting for the story to upload. Because of that, I am now writing two chapters in advance! In other words, when I update chapter 15, I'm already working on chapter 17, with 16 already finished. This way, I will be able to update at a regular basis without having to panic just because I didn't finish the chapter the night before. So, I'm already done with chapter 16 and will _definitely_ post it next Friday, with chapter 17 coming up the following week.** **Gosh, why didn't I do this before?**


	17. L’amour est éternel

**_Foreword: _Yay! This is the longest chapter in the entire book! I think it may eve be the longest chapter I've ever written after I started writing this series! This is long enough to contain two chapters. As you can see, it actually does include two chapters, with one that takes place in the morning and the other that takes place from then till noon.**

**Since it's summer, I have tons of time in my hands now, so I've decided to draw and share my artwork with my readers! When you go to my profile, you will see my blog website, and when you click on that, you will be directed to "James Stapleton's Blog." In this blog, I will be posting my artwork, and you can see the larger version of the artwork (since it's shrunk a little bit) by clicking on the picture. The artwork is a little anime-like because I'm both an anime freak and unable to draw real human beings and color them on Photoshop. But I'm sure you'll like then, since the style is just like that in the comics. Also, here is a little warning: I _hate_ the present-day Nancy Drew, period. I grew up reading the originals and will not consider those girls with their _long blond_ hair as Nancy (Nancy is _not_ blond, and her hair is only shoulder-length!). Therefore, my Nancy Drew pictures will have Nancy as a girl with titian hair that reaches to her shoulder and then curls up, just like the original Nancy in the illustrations of the books in the first series done by Rudi Nappi (he is the third main illustrator for the series, by the way). Also, I think illustrations of Frank and Joe have gotten worse. In the illustrations done in the 80's, they look like members of the Jets in the you-know-what musical film :-) The good part of the covers for the new series is that they don't have Nancy or the Hardys appearing on the covers anymore, and I think that is a plus because no one can draw them as well as the artists in the olden days. As for the comics, I approve of the Hardy Boys comics, but I don't like Nancy in the comics. The plot is as intriguing as before, but the art is not to my liking.  
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**The first picture that I will post is the picture of Joe with Iola and Diana. I'm sure you would like to see what Diana actually looks like, so there she is. And the picture of a moon that is shown at the back of them is just like the message left by Dr. Devereux before he died. Hmm... That might be a clue (hint-hint).  
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**I would appreciate if you could add a few words or sentences about my artwork in your review. I love nothing more than a nice review stating what I have done right and what I have done wrong in terms of writing this story or drawing my pictures. As an added bonus (sorry, I didn't mean to sound like those people in the infomercials), if you review every one of the remaining chapters in this story, I will send you by messaging or by e-mail a secret link that will direct you to the secret picture that I have not included in my blog ;-) Thank you for reading my long foreword, and please enjoy both my artwork and this chapter!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

_L'amour est éternel_

_**Love is Eternal**_

Sunlight poured into the room like water pouring into a cup. Within minutes after the sun rose, the room was completely lit. Nancy squinted as she tried lazily to get up. For the first time in her life, she appreciated sunlight. The sunless days which she spent at the hotel were like a nightmare. The sinister cloud covered the entire heaven like a dark devil trying to rob humanity of the most precious source of energy and life.

All in all, Nancy loved _not_ staying in that hotel anymore. Now, she was all right, with no need to worry if help would arrive anytime soon. With gratefulness towards everything, the young girl detective went to the bathroom and brushed her hair. Then, she went down to eat her breakfast.

Helen was already up and ready to leave. "I'm going to go to my classes now," she said as she hastily shoved a toast into her mouth with a gulp of water. Apparently, she was going to be late.

"Classes?" asked Nancy.

"Yup. I have my graduate classes, and I need to take summer classes so I can work as soon as I can. I just can't let Jim do all the work, you know. Nowadays, women should be caring more for the house than just the chores."

Nancy grinned. "You really sound like Rosie the Riveter. Good ol' spirit. You're as energetic as ever, I see!"

Helen smiled, but she became serious once she finished eating her toast. "But please promise me that you'll be careful, Nancy. I don't want something like _that_ to happen again."

Nancy nodded. "I'll try my best."

With a wink and a smile, Helen turned around and left the house, carrying her book bag and purse with her as she left.

Iola was the next one to come. She had woken up a few minutes earlier but needed some time to comb and brushed her hair. She also needed to apply some cream to an acne that appeared on her forehead just a week ago. As she came downstairs to get her breakfast, Nancy smiled and greeted her good morning. Iola smiled back and sat down at the table across the girl detective. But Nancy noticed that Iola was looking at her differently, as if she had something to tell but was afraid to say.

"What's bothering you?" Nancy asked.

"I…I was wondering something," Iola finally managed to say. "It's about Joe. I'm really worried that he might just leave me and fall in love with Diana."

"Oh, that's silly!" Nancy said with a grin. "Joe's a great guy, just like my boyfriend. And I know that he'll never leave me, or at least leave me for good!"

Iola looked at Nancy. "So does it mean he _has_ left you a few times?"

"Yeah, but seeing other people once in a while isn't that bad, either. It's not the same thing as leaving each other, but it's like meeting other people to deepen your own relationship."

"So… Does it mean it's normal for him to do that? To date another girl, I mean."

"I wouldn't say normal, but he did it once every semester or so. But each time it lasted for just a week or two anyway."

Iola seemed more relieved now. "And…um…I also wanted to know…"

"Yeah?"

"How close are you two?"

Nancy paused. This question was hard to answer. She stopped her knife and fork and began pondering. "Let me see…He and I have known each other for a little over two years, so I'd say we aren't as close as you and Joe are, I suppose. But it's not the time that matters. It's the experience that you've had with him that counts."

Iola seemed gloomy again. "About that…It's like I'm never seeing Joe. Joe is always away on trips or solving mysteries, while I can't do anything but wait for him in Bayport. It's just…It gets so lonely sometimes, especially when I can't seem him even after school or during vacations."

Iola stopped and looked at Nancy again. "I heard from Joe that Ned has solved countless mysteries with you, but I haven't solved any with Joe so far… That's why I feel so..." Iola stopped, searching for a right word to use in this case. "…I feel left out."

Nancy grinned gently. "It's nothing to worry about. Even now, you're solving a case with Joe, whether you want to or not. I'm sure that if you can help him just a little bit—like giving him clues—then he will reconsider your detective skills!"

Iola nodded and smiled. "Okay. I feel really relieved now, Nancy. Thanks for your advices."

The older girl smiled as well, only her smile was much broader. "No problem, Iola. Just ask me about things like this anytime. I'm always there for you and will continue to support you, alright?"

The girl detective had finished her sentence when she heard the two friends upstairs finally wake up. "Come down, you sloth! We're going to be busy today!" she said, raising her face up to the ceiling so her voice could be heard upstairs. "It's almost eight-thirty!"

George came downstairs first because she had shorter hair and needed less time to brush her hair. Not that she always actually _brushed_ her hair when she woke up. Most of the times, she was just too lazy to bother and ended up going to school with her hair pointing at all directions. But today, she actually took time to brush her hair, so it was as smooth as silk.

Bess, on the other hand, cared about her hair like it was her baby. She gently washed her hair with special shampoo and conditioner that she bought from the nearby beauty salon last night—since her shampoo and conditioner were taken away by the security personnel at River Heights Airport, much to Bess's complaint and agony—and then wiped her hair with the soft towels that she had brought from United States. By the time she came downstairs, the other two were already finishing their toasts.

"When should we call the others?" Bess asked.

George shrugged. "They said they'll call _us_. Usually, it should be the gentlemen that should call the ladies, not the other way around. Unless they forgot about today, of course."

Nancy shook her head. "Not a chance. Though Joe is most likely to forget about today, Ned and Frank will never forget any small thing in their schedules."

But it was Nancy who ended up calling the boys, since they didn't call even when the clock struck nine.

"Sorry," Frank, who answered the phone, said as he yawned sleepily. "Joe forgot to set the alarm, and we ended up sleeping till now."

"Uh… And Ned?" asked Nancy.

"He just called and said he's going there," Frank said. "His alarm clock's battery ran out of juice."

Nancy sighed and hung up. Bess giggled as she heard what happened. "What are the chances that they'll all be late?" she asked.

The detectives were finally able to meet at nine-thirty. By then, Frank and Ned each had bought himself a cup of Starbucks coffee, which George had teased by saying, "You came all the way to France to get Starbucks?"

It was then decided that the group be divided into two groups, the first one with Nancy, George, Bess, and Ned, while the other with Frank, Joe, and Iola. The first group was to investigate Marie-Jacque while the second was to see the alibi of Serge Beauchamp.

"Alright," Frank said as he went back into his car. "So we'll meet again for lunch. Do you know which restaurant serves delicious food around here, Bess?"

Bess grinned. "About time someone asked me about what restaurant to go to! I've planned this whole thing out, and the first one that I suggest is the Altitude 95 at the Eiffel Tower."

"Altitude 95?" asked George.

"Yup. It certainly pales in comparison with Le Jules Verne, which is located higher up in the tower, but the taste is still as good as the bakery which we went to yesterday. Plus, we also get to enjoy the view from the Eiffel Tower. How's that for romantic-ness?"

"You mean romanticism?" asked George.

Bess blushed a little. "Well, that too. But I suggest going there for lunch. I don't want to go there for dinner because there will be tons of people at night."

"Okay," said Frank. "We'll be there at noon. How about you? Will that work?"

Nancy nodded. "That works." Looking at her watch, she added, "Okay, we should get going now. We'll try our best to find more info about Marie."

After that, the two groups departed the Archer residence, with Helen watching worriedly as they left. The day was beautiful, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The blue sky seemed to spread to the end of Earth, and the color was as blue as blue could be. Paris was not as hot as River Heights, as Nancy had noticed, because Parisian weather tended to be varied by region but overall mild in its own way. It never got too hot, and it never got too cold, and that was what Nancy liked about this place.

Marie-Jacque lived quite a distance from the city. She was living at the outskirt of Paris, a place with many two-storied houses and gardens as tiny as those in San Francisco. Nancy had trouble finding a place to park, but she managed to find a spot after she saw one of the residents leave his home in his car.

Marie's house was as tall as Nancy's house, but the length was about half as long as hers. The garden was not even half as big as hers, but it had just as many flowers. The color of the house was warm and welcoming, with beige sidings, mahogany window frames, and light orange roof. The girl detective rang the doorbell, and from inside came Marie-Jacque, who was still drying her hair with her towel after she took a shower.

"Well?" she asked. "How can I help you?"

"It'll be short," Nancy assured. "We'd like to know if you've met the first victim, Ms. Frazier, before you stayed at the hotel?"

Marie was thinking for a while, but she eventually nodded. "I haven't actually met her in person, but I've seen her talk with Martin before."

However, as soon as she said Martin, the woman started to weep. "I… I can't believe he's dead," she muttered as she wiped her tears with the towel which she was using to dry her hair. "We were supposed to get married… He promised that we'll marry someday… I can't believe it's ending like this…"

Nancy and the others didn't know what to say. "Um…" Nancy started, muttering first what she should say. "W…What were they talking about, do you know?"

Marie shook her head. "No, I haven't the slightest clue because I just passed by a restaurant one evening and saw them talking to each other. No, it was more like…quarreling."

"Quarreling?" Bess asked. "They weren't friends, then?"

Marie shrugged. "That's the only time I saw her with him. I mean, he had lots of girlfriends, with that kind of body, but I don't know if she was his former girlfriend or not. After all, he never talked about his past girlfriends in front of me."

George chuckled slightly. "I see."

Nancy jotted this down. She then noticed the inside of the house. It was decorated with many fabulous antiques and state-of-the-art plasma TV. It was fancy, all right, but to Nancy it was to the level of being fanciful. She quite didn't like the combination of old antique furniture with the new ones placed side by side. And the house was also big for someone working as a photographer.

"Um, I have a question about you, and it might sound a little rude, but… where do you get so much money to spend on this fabulous furniture?"

The woman seemed slightly uncomfortable as she heard this question, but she smiled anyways and answered, "Inheritance. My grandfather died recently, and since he outlived any of his siblings, cousins, or even his children, all the inheritance came to me, his only grandchild. My parents had died, and my aunt and uncle also died in an accident. So all the money came to me, and I can actually live without the need to work for the rest of my life. I just do photography because it has been my hobby ever since I was a little girl."

Nancy nodded.

"And the talk about money," Marie continued, "reminds me of the times which Martin came to my house to ask me for money. About a week ago, he came to me and asked if I could lend him some money. Of course, I didn't refuse and gave him what he wanted. He said he would pay back the money and left. I didn't see him until the party held at the hotel just before we were stranded in that place."

"He asked you for money?" asked Ned. "How much?"

"Let's see… I think it was about seventy-five hundred euros."

"Seventy-five hundred?" asked Bess, shocked. "That's…about ten thousand US dollars! Did he really ask you for that much?"

Marie nodded. "He didn't give me any explanation, just asked for the money. He said he'll pay me back, but I said he didn't need to. After all, I got the inheritance money from my millionaire grandfather."

George muttered, "So, there _is_ a secret after all."

Nancy jotted this down also. "And what about Dr. Devereux? Have you seen him anywhere before?"

Marie shook her head. "Honestly, I have never seen that man before, and there is nothing I can say about him, since I never liked him because of his arrogant speaking style."

Ned chuckled. "I understand. He's been on Dave's case ever since Dave complained about his being too egotistical to be a professor."

"Okay…" Nancy said. Closing her notebook, she smiled at the woman. "Thank you so much for your cooperation."

But before she turned around, she remembered something and took out her purse. From inside, she took out the locket which Frank and Joe had found.

"Do you recognize this?" she asked, handing Marie the locket. The woman studied it for a second, then turned pale.

"I…I never got this from Martin," she muttered. "He must have given it to someone else."

"Are you sure?" asked Nancy.

"Yes," the woman said, still as pale as a sheet of paper, "now please go. I have work to do."

* * *

From the parking lot in which Frank parked his car, he could already smell the tempting aroma of the bakery. The bread was good, but he especially liked the bakery's pastries, which were better than any that he had tasted in Bayport. 

"So who will talk to Mr. Beauchamp?"

Joe raised his hand. "I will. I want to ask him a few other things, too."

"Okay. So Iola and I will talk to the employees at the bakery, then," said Frank.

After the threesome got out of the car, Joe went directly to the store, while Frank and Iola waited for a while. As soon as he opened the door, Joe asked the nearby employee where Mr. Beauchamp was. The man pointed to the door at the back of the counter. On the door was a sign "Employees only," which was written in French. Joe followed the employee into the room, where he saw a few people kneading the dough and putting the finished dough into the oven. He also saw people decorating the pastries with strawberries and cherries, along with vanilla and blueberries. Looking at the pastries made him hungry.

"He's inside," the employee said in French. "He is talking on the phone right now, so please don't bother him."

Joe nodded, and he silently went into the room, where he saw the man whom he wanted to talk to talking on the phone in fluent French.

"_D'accord. Merci beaucoup, Pierre. A bientôt!_" As soon as he hung up, the man turned around to face Joe. "Thank you for waiting," he said with a smile. "It's great to see you again. How was the dinner last night?"

"Great, as always," said Joe. "But I will get straight to the point. During the days in which the three murders took place, where have you been?"

"Well, that is certainly a rude thing to ask!" the man said, a little upset. "But I will tell you, since the police had already asked this numerous times before: I have been here in the pastry shop from dawn to dusk preparing dough, baking dough, decorating pastries, greeting customers, and even cooking for dinners at night. How can you think I had the change to kill anybody?"

"Is that certain?"

"Of course! If you ask my employees they will all say that I was here all day for the last three days. The only time I took time off was when I went to that party held at that hotel the night before the murders began."

"I see," Joe said. "What about the victims? Do you know any of the victims? Ms. Frazier? Mr. Rousseau? Dr. Devereux?"

At the mention of Dr. Devereux's name, the owner's expression changed slightly, but he immediately shrugged. "_Non_, I have no idea who they are. Well, if you have nothing more to say, please leave. I have tons of work to…"

"What about Diana?" Joe interrupted.

Mr. Beauchamp couldn't hide his expression this time. He had been taken by surprise, and he couldn't control his expression. It was an expression of sheer anger and shock.

Joe smiled. _Bulls-eye, _he thought. _I've now caught him off-guard._

"So you do know her." Joe said.

In less than a second, the man managed to regain his calmness and shook his head. "No, I don't know her, either."

"Well, from looking at your expression, I can tell you are lying," Joe said. "I saw how you were surprised when you first saw Diana at the party. I know that you know her, and I will not budge until you tell me who she is to you."

Mr. Beauchamp gritted his teeth. "No, I have no idea who she is. Now please go. _Je suis très occupé aujourd'hui _(I am very busy today)!"

Without realizing, Mr. Beauchamp had spoken in French, and this indicated how he was getting anxious. Joe was far from satisfied, but because he saw how determined the man was, he decided to just leave. But he was content at knowing that he had found that there was a connection of some kind between Diana and Beauchamp, whether Diana knew this beforehand or not.

"How was it?" Frank asked Joe once he saw him return to the car.

"I know now that Mr. Beauchamp is connected to Diana in some way, at least. But he refused to tell. I wonder why…"

"To Diana?" asked Frank. "But what kind of connection, do you think?"

Joe shrugged. "Beats me. By the way, did you find anything?"

"Nothing, really," said Iola. "We only found from the employees that Uncle Serge was at the restaurant/bakery all day from the time he left the party at the hotel. That means he has perfect alibi, since he could not possibly have gone from here to the hotel and then back without anyone's realizing."

"So he could have committed the first murder, but not the second and the third, then," Joe concluded. But then he saw how upset Iola was as she heard this, so he stopped his induction.

"Do you think it's too early?" Joe asked.

Frank looked at his watch. "No, we're just in time."

Frank parked the car at the parking lost closest to the tower. Fortunately, he saw a couple driving away just before he entered the parking lot, so he was able to park there. If not, he would have been forced to park at a parking lot nearly half a mile away! Frank exited, and he saw how the entire Eiffel Tower could be seen from that parking lot, except for the bottom fifty feet of the tower.

Iola was excited, apparently, as she took hold of Joe's arm gleefully and dragged him as the threesome headed for the tower.

As they waited at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, the group saw the other group approaching them. "Great! Now we can eat!" said Joe, holding his stomach.

The detectives got to the restaurant just as it opened for lunch. Because of it, they were able to get the tables by the window. And from the seat they could even see the parking lot in which Frank had parked the car.

"What a marvelous view!" Bess exclaimed.

"But it'll get more marvelous if we were at Le Jules Verne, but the bill for that restaurant would go sky-high!" said George, drinking her cup of water as she waited for her dish to arrive.

Joe stood up. "Okay, I think it's a perfect time to take a picture," he said with a grin as he put his hand into her pocket. Then, his expression changed. "Huh? Where is my camera?"

"I think you forgot it in the car," Frank said. "I saw you drop it when you got into the car."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I thought you realized when you got out. Sorry."

Joe then ran out of the restaurant. Iola sighed as she watched her boyfriend run. After a few minutes, she looked down the huge window. She saw Joe running as fast as he could. She grinned.

The hors d'oeuvre arrived about five minutes after Iola saw Joe at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. It was a plate of salad with cucumber, tomato, some onions, olives, lettuce, and various other vegetables. Nancy thought it was typical, but as she tasted it, she could see that it was different from any salad that she had tasted before.

"This tastes great!" said George. "Wow, the dressing is amazing! It's not too salty or too strong, but is so creamy and yet doesn't leave any bad taste behind. I love this!"

Ned agreed. "I guess this must be the 'secret sauce' that the waitress was talking about."

Iola started eating the salad, but she stopped as she heard a loud sound. It sounded like there was a large explosion.

_Boom!!!_

As she looked out the window, Iola saw something she could not believe. The landscape of Paris was as peaceful as before, except for one thing: there was big black smoke coming from the parking lot in which Frank had parked the car in which she, Frank, and Joe came in!

"W…What's that!?" Iola shouted in shock as she stood up to see it better. She couldn't believe it.

"What's wrong?" Nancy asked. She looked out the window as well, and gasped as she did so. The others also looked, and soon the other guests in the restaurant began to notice. Someone was screaming, while the others were murmuring to their companions something in French.

Frank was just as shocked as Iola was, since he, too, realized where the smoke was coming from.

"But…That's…Joe is…" He could no longer understand what he was talking about. He was too confused, too shocked as he realized what this could mean.

"Joe… Joe might be in there," Iola muttered. In an instant, everything around her seemed to turn pitch black.

Iola was now as pale as a ghost. Immediately, the girl took out her cell phone and dialed Joe's cell phone number.

"Please, Joe…" Iola muttered as she grasped the cell phone as though it was her lifeline. "Please answer…"

Joe did not answer.

_That's not possible_, she thought as she let the cell phone slide through her fingers and land noisily on the floor.

_Joe is…_

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**Dead? Well, that's for the readers to find out later! Please don't forget to review this chapter and my picture that is posted on the blog. Thank you for reading! I'm sure you're more than willing to read the next chapter, so the chapter will be up next Friday (sorry to make you wait one whole week!). Also, check back often on my blog, since there will be more things posted later.  
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	18. Mémoire

**_Foreword: _Hi! And here is another update! The previous chapter is the longest chapter that I've written, and this is another chapter that is unlike any others: it has the characters going to and fro the reality and the flashbacks. In the previous chapter, the car which Joe had gone to has exploded into a ball of flames, and this chapter will focus on Iola's going through her flashbacks as she rushes to get to the scene of the explosion. I'm sure it will be a short but a nice read, since Iola and Joe's pasts are revealed in this chapter. Please don't forget to check my blog, for I have updated it and included another picture. This time, the picture will be that of Nancy staring back at the burning car with the background of Eiffel Tower behind her and in the smokes rising from the car. I like this one better than the previous one, since it has Nancy Drew in it! You'll see what I mean when you take a look! ;-) Anyway, enjoy this chapter as well as my drawing. Oh, and please don't forget to review!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

_Mémoire_

_**Memory**_

Iola stood there, listening to the ringing of the phone at the other side of the line. The ringing seemed to last eternity, and no one answered the phone.

"No…" Iola muttered. She didn't even realize that the phone had slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a loud thud. The entire world seemed to swirl around her. She couldn't hear the voices of Frank, or Nancy, or the other guests as they watched the black smoke rise from the parking lot in which Joe—her one and only boyfriend—had gone to. The entire world was now black and white, without a sound, without motion, just like an old photograph. Time seemed to stop inside her as the photograph slowly faded away into blackness.

* * *

"_Are you okay?"_

_Iola opened her eyes. She saw Joe standing in front of her with a concerned face. They were the only ones in the classroom. The class in which Iola had been when she was in sixth grade was nearly bare, with only three posters on the walls and about twenty chairs, with half as many desks. The teacher's desk was empty, and from looking at the time Iola knew it the school was already over for the day._

"_Yeah," Iola said as she raised herself from the table. She had fallen completely asleep in Mrs. Hodgkin's class, though she had only fallen asleep a few minutes before the end of class, so she didn't get in trouble._

"_Are you okay?" he asked again._

_Iola nodded. "Just felt tired."_

_Joe looked at the girl's face closely. "Come on. Just tell me what's wrong. I can tell you're bothered by something. You were like this the entire week!"_

_Iola looked up at Joe. "I…It's my dog Spot. He was hit by the truck last week when I lost sight of him for a second. And I just couldn't get over it. He was like my only friend before I moved to Bayport."_

_The boy stared as a teardrop rolled down the girl's cheek._

_A week later, Iola was still upset. However, when the class was over one Friday afternoon, Joe went to Iola, who was preparing to go home, and patted her on the shoulder._

"_Let's go."_

"_Huh? Where…?"_

_But before Iola could finish her sentence, Joe pulled her arm and made her stand up. "Come one," he said as he ran out of the classroom. "I want to show you something."_

_Not knowing where Joe might take her, Iola followed him. They ran through someone's garden, across a field, over a fence, and under a bridge, the two youngsters finally reached their destination: an animal shelter at downtown Bayport._

"_An…animal shelter?" Iola asked as she saw Joe enter._

"_Come on," Joe kept saying._

_Inside, the girl was amazed to see so many animals, all of which were looking at her with curious eyes. They were all kept in a cage, and some of them were even older than her dog._

_As Iola stood there, perplexed, Joe asked the woman behind the counter to open one of the cages. The woman smiled and got her keys. In a minute Joe returned to Iola holding a little dog in his hand. Iola took one look and gasped in surprise._

"_Joe, this dog…He looks just like Spot."_

_Joe didn't smile, but he did seem to blush a bit._

"_I heard all about Spot," the woman said as she stroke the fur of the small animal, staring at it with her smiling eyes. "He was hit by a truck, right?"_

_Iola nodded._

"_Well, this dog is very similar. His owner, who was a nice lady who lived alone in her house, died in a car accident, so he had nobody to take care of him. When I found him in the streets, he was all skin and bones."_

_Iola looked at the dog, which stared at her with longing eyes._

"_Joey was very persistent. He went to ten animal shelters total before he found the one that looked just like the dog you lost."_

_The girl looked at Joe, who was stroking other dogs in the shelter._

"_Joe," she said as she approached him with the puppy. Joe turned around._

"_Thank you."_

_Joe's face turned bright red again._

* * *

Frank was running the fastest, with Nancy closely behind. The detectives were all running toward the parking lot in which the black smoke came from like a tall black dragon rising from the earth to the heavens. It was an eerie sight, with the streets blocked with curious bystanders and cars that were trying to use the street that was blocked with hundreds, if not thousands, of people. 

There was the sound of the police car approaching, but the sound did not get any closer over time because the crowd of people had blocked streets. The same could be said for the ambulances.

"Oh, my god," Iola heard herself say this numerous times to herself like a spell. "Oh, my god."

The black smoke came closer now, and it seemed like a large tower, just as tall as Eiffel Tower. She heard as passed by that a car had exploded, and this scared her even more. A black smoke rising from a parking lot, Joe's not answering the phone, explosion of a car… All facts pointed toward one horrible thing, which she refused to believe was true.

"Please, no…" Iola murmured as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Joe…"

* * *

_Iola was all alone in the class. Actually, she was not alone at all. She was as popular as ever, with many friends talking to her and laughing with her in her classes. But somehow, as she entered high school, she was no longer as happy as she used to be. She already had a new pet, new friends, and fairly good grades, but she was still not as happy as she was when she was in eighth grade._

_Why was that?_

_Actually, Iola knew why. It was all because she did not have any class with Joe that semester. The first semester was lonely, since the classes in which she got in were made mostly of people that she did not know. She was still bright and friendly, so she had no problem making new friends, but she felt dissatisfied._

_Joe wasn't there._

_Iola often walked from home to school and vice versa with Joe and Frank, but she had one important event to look forward to._

"_Homecoming dance," she muttered to herself._

_Some of her friends were already asked by their boy friends to the dance, but she was still not asked by anyone. She wanted to ask Joe, but she didn't have the courage to do so._

"_Hey, Iola," a voice said from behind. Iola turned around. It was Callie._

"_Hey, how's it going?" asked the blond girl._

"_Fine."_

"_Well, it sure doesn't sound fine to me. What's up?"_

"_Nothing."_

_Callie looked at Iola for a moment and smiled. "Let me guess. Is it either Joe or the homecoming dance?"_

_But before Iola could answer, Callie corrected herself: "No, I guessed wrong. It's _both_ Joe and the homecoming dance, isn't it?"_

_Iola blushed a little and nodded._

"_Well, come on, you don't have to act like that! I asked Frank out, and he said yes. I'm sure if you do the same to Joe, he'll say yes, too!"_

"_I don't know. I don't have the guts like you do…"_

_Callie looked at Iola again. A second later, she mischievously patted Iola's back with her right hand. "I'm sure you can do it, Iola. Leave it to me."_

"_Huh?" Iola looked up at her best friend. "Um…I should leave it to you?"_

_Callie then grabbed Iola's hand without her finishing the question. Like Joe when he took her to the animal shelter, Callie led Iola to a classroom by her hand._

"_Joe should still be here," she said. "This is the math classroom. Frank and Joe both said that they'll go to the meeting of every single club to see which ones are fit for them, so I'm sure they'll be in the classroom, since today is math team's first meeting."_

_Callie then opened the door without knocking, and everyone in the room looked at the strange girl who just barged in to math team's meeting. Frank was one of them. The girl looked around the room a few times, but she didn't see Joe there. She then looked at Frank._

_Frank, who seemed to know precisely what Callie wanted by telepathically communicating with her, smiled and said: "Joe already went home. He said he had to go somewhere."_

"_Oh," Callie said, blinking a few times. "That's strange. Joe didn't say he was going anywhere in his last class."_

"_I don't know where he went, either," Frank said, shrugging._

_Callie and Iola left the school._

"_Where do you think he went?" Callie asked Iola. Iola shrugged. "Oh, I'm almost late," the girl then said as she looked at her watch. "I have to meet someone to do homework with. I'll see you later!"_

_With that, Callie ran to the opposite direction as Iola was going. Alone, the girl decided to just head home. "I can always call Joe later, if I find the guts."_

_Just as Iola reached her house, she stopped a few yards from the front entrance. Her eyes wide open, she stared at the unexpected visitor who was standing by the entrance of the house, with his hands behind his back._

"_Joe!" she called as she ran to the person who waited for her return. "What are you doing here?"_

_Joe smiled as he saw Iola approaching. "I'm glad you came here. I was about to go home because you were so late."_

"_Sorry."_

"_By the way, about the homecoming dance…"_

_Iola could feel her heartbeat quicken._

"…_if you don't have any other plan…"_

_Iola felt herself holding her breath._

"…_will you go to the dance with me?"_

_Iola smiled and nodded, but in her mind, she was racing across a wide green field and dancing with joy like Maria in "The Sound of the Music." She immediately hugged Joe, who was turning pink slightly._

"_Of course!" she shouted. "Thank goodness you came! I didn't have the guts to actually ask you myself, and…"_

_Joe grinned. "Alright. That's set. See you Saturday."_

_Iola kept on smiling even after she saw Joe leave. As gracefully as a ballerina, she danced and twirled into her house, picking up her pet dog who she named Spot Jr. and swinging him around as she hugged him dearly. Ignoring the bewildered dog's barking and struggling to flee himself from his seemingly crazed owner, the girl danced him all the way to her bedroom._

* * *

"Please let us through!" Nancy was shouting in French as she pushed through the crowd that had formed around the parking lot from which the cloud was rising. She was struggling through the large crowd, but doing it politely and gentlewomanly was not helping at all in advancing to the scene of the explosion, so she resorted in having to push her way through the dogmatic bystanders who refused to give way to the people who needed to see the scene the most. 

Frank was right behind Nancy now, wedging himself through the narrow openings made between two crowds. One crowd was made of curious bystanders who probably had nothing to do and were excited to see something out of the ordinary on a Monday afternoon. The other crowd was made of people who actually had things to do and needed to go mind their businesses but could not do so because of the crowd of bystanders that got in their way. The small crowd, the crowd that needed to see the scene of the accident because someone they love might have been involved in the explosion, the crowd that Nancy, Frank, Iola, Ned, Bess, and George were in, was extremely small compared to the other two crowds. Therefore, it was nearly impossible to go to the parking lot.

But Nancy and the others somehow made it to the crowd in less than ten minutes. By now, the smoke was even stronger than before, with more black smoke coming from the parking lot. The detectives immediately ran to the direction from which the smoke was rising. As they reached the place, Iola screamed in horror.

The car that exploded indeed was the one in which Iola, Frank, and Joe had come in, and it was the car which Joe had run to in order to get his camera. And now, that car was in flames and smokes.

Iola slowly walked toward the flame, the image of the burning car etching into her mind. She could not believe this scene. She thought it was a nightmare. But it wasn't. It was reality, and she was looking straight at it.

The girl kept on walking despite the calls from the other detectives and the intense heat exerting from the burning car. She was about to black out from the shock and from the heat, but she stopped as she sensed that she was stepping on something. She looked down.

It was Joe's cell phone.

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**The evidences pointing toward Joe's death is getting more convincing... Will this be the end of Joe? I love nothing more than a review, so be sure to leave a few words before you go. It'll just take a few seconds! And thanks in advance for those who reviewed.  
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	19. A mon amour

**_Foreword: _Here is the update that many of you have been waiting for! Yay! I'm sure most of you thought that I was killing you with the suspense. Well, that's what I was aiming for, but in truth I actually gave you hints as to whether Joe is dead or alive. If you thought carefully about the last sentences of the previous two chapters, you would have known what would happen. I'm sure you will know more when you read this. As always, I have more romance in this chapter, some clues, and a little bit of humor. Please leave a few words in your reviews after you read them. Thanks for reading the foreword! And please enjoy this chapter!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

_À mon amour_

_**To My Love**_

"Is that… Joe's cell phone?" Nancy asked in shock as she saw what was clutched in Iola's hand just as the girl bent down to pick it up.

"Yes," Iola said. She then turned to Nancy. The girl detective was more shocked as she saw the smile on Iola's face.

"What…?" Nancy began to ask. Iola interrupted the girl with her voice, which was too overjoyed to keep quiet.

"He's alive!" Iola said as she clutched the cell phone tightly in her hand. "The cell phone… The explosion…I got it!"

"He's…what?" Nancy blurted out, unable to understand what the girl was talking about. She began to worry that Iola might have lost it. Then, Frank and the others went towards the two girls.

"What's the matter?" Frank asked.

"Help me look for Joe," Iola said as she started looking around. The others were perplexed as to what the girl was thinking.

Bess was the one who asked, "Iola, how do you know Joe isn't…?"

"The phone," the girl said. "This phone is still working. I called Joe right after I saw and heard the explosion, but the phone was still working, only nobody was picking it up. This means that the person holding the phone was not in the car when the car blew up, since the phone would have be blown up into smithereens if left in an exploding car. That's why I thought that Joe might be alive when I ran here. Also, as I found the cell phone, it was a few yards away from the car. This means only one thing: Joe found the bomb just as he opened the car door, and ran just seconds before the car actually exploded, therefore dropping the phone as he ran!"

Nancy nodded as she finally understood what kept the girl so elated. "Okay, let's go look for him. He can't be that far away."

The entire team started searching. It didn't even take a few minutes to find where Joe was. The wounded detective was found between two cars about ten yards away from the exploded car, unconscious as he had hit his head when he dived to avoid the heat from the blast.

"Joe, are you okay?" Iola shouted frantically as she saw how much Joe was bleeding. "Oh, thank goodness you're not dead! I knew you were alive!"

"Please don't shake him too much," Ned said as he lifted Joe's head up slightly to find a large pool of dark red liquid—blood. "From what I'm seeing, he's had a concussion and is barely conscious, if not unconscious. Also, it's been about ten minutes since we found him, so that means he has been bleeding for more than that. And he lost a lot of blood from the wound on his head, so we need to carry him to the hospital as soon as possible."

The ambulance arrived a few seconds afterwards, and the detectives watched as the wounded detective was carried into the back of the car. Frank and Iola went into the ambulance with him, while the rest of the group went to their car, checked cautiously if there was anything strange attached to the car, and followed. As they reached the hospital, Joe was immediately treated by a doctor.

Police were both surprised and a little disturbed when they saw that the young group of American amateur detectives was once again involved in the case, and they yet again began to ask the usual questions to the detectives, though the detectives couldn't say much since they weren't the one who saw what had actually happened. They were just as clueless as the police until Joe woke up.

The doctor who examined Joe came out of the hospital room and told the detectives to come in.

"Is he going to be okay?" Iola asked concernedly.

"Yes, he will," answered the doctor. "However, he won't be waking up for quite a while."

"Quite a while?" asked Frank. "What do you mean? Is the wound that serious?"

"Oh, no, no. It's just that the concussion and the excessive bleeding left him nearly to the level of coma. He is quite lucky that he isn't in coma, but his consciousness will not be returning for a few more days, perhaps, if not weeks."

"Is…is it that bad?" asked Bess, shocked to hear the news.

"Well, no, but it depends on the person," the doctor answered, looking at Joe, who seemed like he was peacefully sleeping. "But I will say that for the next twenty-four hours, it is very unlikely that he will wake up. That is how severe his injury is."

* * *

"Well, what do you think about this?" Nancy asked Frank as she came back from the counter with two cups of coffee. She took a sip of the coffee just as she handed one to him and frowned. "Wow. This is what they call coffee? It's surely different from Starbucks." 

Frank took a sip as well, but he didn't change his expression. "I've had worse," he said, grinning slightly.

"So, what do you think?" Nancy asked once again, sitting beside Frank. She brought two small packages of sugar with her, and she was tearing the first bag as she spoke. "About Joe's accident, that is."

"I think," Frank began, taking another sip from the cup, "that Joe went to the car and unlocked the door. However, he saw that there was a strange package or something on the passenger seat, so he decided to run as soon as possible, thinking that it might be something dangerous. And the bomb exploded just as he ran a few yards. How about that?"

"My thoughts precisely," Nancy said. "I suppose the bomb was connected to the car door, and the bomb would activate when the person unlocks the door, and the bomb would explode after the person opened the door. Or, a timer would activate as the car door was unlocked and would cause the bomb to explode if the door wasn't opened in five seconds. There are plenty of ways."

Nancy tore the second package of sugar and began pouring it into her cup. "Do you think this is connected to the murders?"

"I don't know," Frank said, sipping his coffee in which he hadn't added anything yet. "There might be a connection, but I don't remember Joe's seeing anything that he shouldn't or do something that would intimidate the culprit."

"What Joe found out must have been something that was really inconvenient for the culprit," Nancy said, opening the third package of sugar.

Frank stopped his hand. "Wait a minute… When I think about it, it does seem strange," he said, looking into the black ooze in his cup. "The bomber didn't know that the person who opened the door would be Joe. It might have been me or Iola. If he wanted to kill Joe alone, then he wouldn't have set the bomb to the car. He would have done something much more precise."

Nancy opened her fourth package of sugar as she gasped. "You don't think—"

"—that the culprit didn't want _just_ Joe to die? Yes, I do." Frank's hand was trembling with anger. "My guess is that the culprit had hoped that all three of us would come to the car and open the doors. And by opening the doors, all three of us would explode along with the car."

Nancy gritted her teeth as she thought about the explosion. "I can't believe this," she muttered. "What kind of cold-blooded person would do such a thing?"

Frank shrugged. "I have no idea, but my hunch is that the bomber must be someone in the suspect list."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I haven't talked to anyone but those people ever since I got to France."

"I suppose, but isn't there any chance that some villains that you caught with Joe a long time ago would want to seek revenge?"

"Not a chance. They are all in jail, and as far as I remember the lightest sentence is two years in prison. Most of them have to stay there for nearly the rest of their lives."

Nancy sighed as she opened her fifth package of sugar. "Diana, Mr. Charlock, Marie-Jacque, and Serge. If only I could find a way to narrow down the suspect list…"

"Well, we know that Diana and Marie-Jacque can't commit the first murder if they used the trick that we thought of. And Serge had an airtight alibi when the second murder was committed. As for Mr. Charlock, it is still impossible for him to commit the second murder. Besides, we don't even know the meaning of the moon-shaped mark that Devereux left as he was dying."

Nancy sighed. "The second murder… That is all which keeps us from finding the truth, isn't it?" She tore open the sixth package of sugar.

"Yup. And unless two of them were working together, like in the previous case, then we don't have any lead."

"Hey…that is a possibility, right? About two of them being in cahoots? I guess someone must be working with Serge or Mr. Charlock!"

"I kind of doubt it," said Frank. "Just think. The previous case had a kind of pattern: in the first murder, one of the killers had an alibi, and in the second murder, the other killer had an alibi. But in this case, nobody actually _has_ any alibi. And there is still a chance that we didn't find out about the trick that was used for the first murder. Then using an accomplice would be meaningless. Also, there is still a slight possibility that the trick we thought of isn't the trick that was used to commit the first murder."

Nancy sighed. She kept slowly stirring her coffee with the plastic spoon.

"So where are you going next?" Frank asked.

"I'm thinking about going to the hotel again later this afternoon," said Nancy. "I have another business to finish at the hotel. What about you?"

"I'm going to investigate this bombing with Iola. I'm sure she wants to investigate this because of the very personal reason."

"I understand," Nancy said with a nod. Then, she took a sip of the coffee. In an instant, her face became pale as she spat her coffee out into the cup. Wheezing, she wiped her mouth with her handkerchief and grabbed Frank's cup of coffee. Without asking first, she began gulping down the rest of the coffee that was in his cup. Frank looked at the girl detective with an astounded and yet slightly amused expression.

"What's wrong?"

After Nancy calmed down, she sat down by Frank and took out the packages of sugar that she had just emptied into her own cup. She said crossly, pointing to the label of the packages as she showed them to Frank: "What kind of idiot would put packages of salt by the coffeemaker?"

* * *

Nancy, Bess, George, and Ned got into the car in which they came to the hospital. Nancy explained the entire story about Mr. Charlock and his lover to Ned, who listened to the story—and especially the part about the coded message—with interest. 

"Why do you think Joel made it so complicated? Why didn't she just leave a note to him saying where she would be hiding the artworks?" asked Bess.

"I have my guesses," answered Nancy. "Do you remember the first clue? That the first hint was in Joel's name?"

"Yeah," George answered. "It turned out that her name Mantelle sounded like Mantel, so we searched the mantelpiece…" She stopped.

"Strange, huh?" Nancy asked. "If she wrote the hint in French, don't you expect that her answer would also be in French? Instead, her answer was the mantel, which is clearly in English."

Bess was confused. "So why would she do such a thing?"

Ned suddenly seemed to have an idea. "She was either American or British?"

"My thoughts exactly," answered Nancy, still focusing her gaze on the road, since she was the driver. "My guess that she is from America, like many of the suspects who were involved in this case. And because she was an American and because she was female, she was underrated, since Europe was far more famous than America when it came to art. But she was still proud of her heritage, so she decided to make the first part of the code using two things that she was proud of: her name and her native language."

As the detectives arrived at the hotel, Nancy was the first one to dash straight to the innkeeper's room. "Mr. Charlock! This is Nancy!"

When the old man opened the door, he seemed a little surprised to see the girl detective. "What it is?" he asked.

"It's about Joel," Nancy said. "And also about Joe."

"What? Joel and Joe?"

"Well, they're different things, but I'll explain from Joel part: I've cracked the code!"

"Really!?"

"Yes, I have cracked the code that Joel left to you many decades ago, and the answer that I got says that her artwork is hidden in the cabin at the back of the hotel."

"Well, that is splendid!" With that, he followed the others as they headed toward the cabin.

Just as Nancy had suspected, there was nothing inside the cabin, which she wasn't surprised of because she had seen how bare it was when she discovered Martin's body. She opened the curtain of the cabin and started searching.

"The secret compartment shouldn't be too concealed. After all, Joel actually _wanted_ it to be found."

After a while, she saw that there was a small opening in the floor. Putting her finger into the opening, she pulled her hand upward, therefore succeeding in revealing the secret hidden compartment.

"There's a box," she muttered. As the others watched, she took it out carefully and set it down on the floor. The top of the box had an inscription: _à mon amour._

"'To my love,'" she translated as she slowly opened the box. Inside, there was a painting with two people on it. The man, who had dark hair and handsome face, was facing the woman, who had hair with the color of orange-stained gold and eyes that were as blue and warm as the ocean. Both of them were sitting at an old-fashioned table in a French café, with the man handing the woman a small velvet box with a shining object inside: an engagement ring.

Everyone but the old detective was stunned as he or she saw the faces of the young couple.

"These people look like…" George stammered. "They…they look like Nancy and Frank!"

"That's me," Mr. Charlock said with a sad smile on his face. "I used to look like that back in the old days."

Bess looked at the painting. "So, this lady must be…"

"Joel."

Bess, George, and Ned looked at each other, perplexed, and then at Nancy. The girl detective was blushing slightly as she saw how the two lovers resembled Nancy and Frank so much. It was an odd coincidence. She knew that Joel resembled her, but she had no idea Mr. Charlock looked so much like Frank when he was younger.

"You _did_ propose to her?" Nancy asked.

The man nodded sadly. "But I had to leave the next day, so I decided to tell her how I felt when I still had the chance. Too bad it was the last time we ever met."

Ned looked inside the box. To his surprise, he found a small velvet box and an old envelope that had turned yellow over the decades. Mr. Charlock looked at the velvet box and gasped. He then took the box from Ned and carefully opened it.

Inside was a ring. It was the exact same ring that was drawn in the painting, with a small sapphire embedded in the middle of the otherwise all-silver ring. It was the engagement ring that Mr. Charlock had handed to Joel when they were younger.

Without hesitation, the man opened the envelope. Inside was a letter written in French. He took a deep breath as he read it quietly aloud:

"_My dear Clement, I don't think I will be able to live to see the day which you will come back. As my doctor says, my illness is incurable, and I will only live for another month or so. And I don't think you will be able to return in time. But before I leave this world, I want to thank you for all you did to praise me that I was an excellent artist, the best that you have ever seen. Nobody in France ever looked up on me before, and ever since I came to France from America, I had been very depressed, since people in America also didn't appreciate a woman like me to be an artist. This painting is what I drew with my last strength, recollecting the most precious and delightful moment in my short life. I will also leave my ring in this box because I know that you will one day find this box and find the ring along with the painting. I want nobody else but you to keep it because it is the last thing that I would want to lose. Once again, thank you for all you did. Farewell. Joel Mantelle, a.k.a. Joanne Mantilla."_

Mr. Charlock finished translating the letter, and he placed the letter back into the envelope. Bess sniffed loudly as she took out her handkerchief from her purse to mop her eyes. She also took out some tissue paper to blow her nose. George didn't act as sentimental as Bess, but she did blink a few times rapidly. Ned and Nancy were both wordless, just staring at the painting and at Mr. Charlock, who remained quiet after reading the letter.

The silence in the cabin was then broken when Nancy's cell phone rang. The girl quickly unzipped her purse and took out her cell phone. When she saw who was calling, her eyes got wide with surprise.

"Joe?"

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**Gasp! What happened? Is Joe already conscious again? What will happen? Well, that's for you to find out in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would appreciate if you could spend a few minutes posting a review of this chapter or of this story so far. Thank you in advance!**


	20. Petit cahier

**_Foreword: _Sorry I didn't update last week! I was too busy with all the Fourth of July thing and because I had a writer's block on that week, so here is the chapter that was supposed to be up last week. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the previous chapters. I would appreciate if you could leave a comment in your review. It would allow me to know how my readers are thinking. As for the story itself, it's coming to a conclusion, all right. But it's still going to take a while before I can place all the clues out there for you, the readers, to find out and put together. I'm sure you will be pleasantly surprised at the fact that you missed _many_ clues once I start the disclosure section of this story. Also, in this chapter, Mr. D will make an appearance (I'm sure you know who that is). Please read, enjoy, and write a review! Thanks in advance!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Petit cahier_

_**Notebook**_

Iola and Frank were observing as the police cars drove from the scene of the crime. The police had already finished taking photos of the place and taking fingerprints from the cars and testimony from the onlookers. The scene was still filled with tapes warning the spectators not to trudge in.

While Frank was trying to think of a way to get inside without getting caught and arrested of interference in governmental work, a brawny police officer with graying hair and a curious expression approached the young teenagers.

"Hello," he said in fluent English. "Are you from the States?"

"We sure are," Frank said. "Look, my friend was involved in the bombing, and I would really like to find out who did this. May we please search the scene of the crime?"

"Well, we police already took all the evidence that we can find, and we didn't find many. What's your name, son?"

"Frank. Frank Hardy."

"Hardy, eh?" The police officer seemed interested. Then, he grinned. "Sure look a lot like Fenton. Are you related to him in any way?"

Surprised, the detective looked at the man. He seemed to be in his late forties, just as old as his father.

"Yes," he answered after a short pause.

"I knew it!" the man said, his grin as broad as ever. "Your father and I used to share the same dorm room for a while when we were in college."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I came to the States as a young exchange student. He and I stayed in the same room for a year, but we still kept in touch long after I returned to Paris."

The man looked from Frank to Iola, and then back to Frank.

"Fenton told me he had a son who was also a detective, but I didn't know you were in Paris, especially with your charming girlfriend!"

Frank chuckled. "Oh, she's not my girlfriend. She's my brother's. Anyway, is it all right if we search the place for a while? I promise that if we find anything new, we'll bring them to the police station right away."

The officer nodded. "I doubt if you'll find any new lead, but if you do, then come by to the station and ask for my name. I'll be waiting at my desk most of the time sorting some old files, since this week's my turn to do it. My name's Jean-Louis Lefèvre."

Frank and Iola agreed. Mr. Lefèvre then left the scene, leaving the two to search as much as they wanted.

"So where should we start?" Iola asked. Frank pointed to the large pile of burnt metal in the middle of the parking lot.

"The crime scene first," he said.

The two then started shoving away scraps. As they had thought, the detectives found nothing that the police didn't find. All the evidences had been taken away from the scene of the crime, so there was almost no lead as to who the culprit might have been.

However, as Frank looked around, he saw something white underneath one of the cars that surrounded and protected Joe from the blast. Because it was under the shadow, and because it had a black cover, the police had missed it. As Frank took it and held it in his hands, he noticed that the notebook belonged to Joe. It was the same notebook that their father had given to Joe as a present for solving his fiftieth case, which was called _Danger on Vampire Trail_. A third of the notebook was filled with useful detective tips that Mr. Hardy had personally come up with during his long years as a police investigator. But the second third of the notebook was filled with Joe's own notes about the cases, and as Frank flipped through the notes, he noticed the notes that related to the mystery the detectives were currently involved in.

"Joe must have spent some time gathering all these data," Frank said, amazed. "And there are the notes and speculations about the sign of the moon that Dr. Devereux had drawn before his death!"

As Frank read on, he realized that what Joe had been thinking coincided with what Frank had thought of. Right by the symbol of the moon, there was the note: "crescent."

"I knew it," Frank muttered. "The moon was that of the first or last quarter, which was also called the 'crescent' moon because it resembled the segment of a ring tapering to points at the ends. And the only place with the name 'crescent' is the Crescent Bakery. When translated to French, it's Croissant Pâtisserie, which is the pastry shop that Mr. Beauchamp owns."

Frank grunted. "But it's useless. Even though we know that he might have done it, there is no evidence, no way to explain his perfect alibi, and no lead!"

"What happened?" a voice said from behind.

Frank was taken by surprise, for this voice did not belong to Iola. When he turned around, he saw the familiar face of a blond teen staring at him.

"Diana!" he shouted in surprise. "Since when did you get here?"

"Just now," the girl said. "I was hungry, so I decided to eat outside for a change, so I went to my favorite restaurant, and when I saw the news on TV that there was an explosion that involved an American tourist, I decided to check out the crime scene. So what happened? And why are you and Iola here?" She then pointed to Iola, who was still unaware of the advent of the girl.

"Well, to tell the truth, the American tourist who was involved is Joe."

"W-w-w-what!?" This time, Diana was taken by surprise, and as she stammered on, Iola noticed the girl's presence and turned around with a surprised but a bit disturbed look. "Wait…_Really?_"

"As real as the explosion," Frank muttered, sighing. "We were eating lunch in the Eiffel Tower when Joe went back to the car to get his camera. But a few minutes afterwards, we saw that there was a huge explosion coming from the direction of the parking lot in which we parked our car, so we decided to go have a look. And, unfortunately, what we feared was true."

"But… Is Joe okay?"

"Yes, but he'll not regain consciousness until tomorrow, the doctor says. At least, it's highly unlikely that Joe will regain consciousness until tomorrow, but then, we Hardys have always done things that were unlikely to be accomplished," Frank said, adding a slight chuckle after he finished.

Diana looked relieved, and the colors came back to her ashen face when she heard about Joe. "So is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"Not really," Frank said, looking around. "But I would appreciate if you could tell me where you have been when the explosion occurred, which is around 12:15 PM. Sorry to be blunt, but I would like to see if you have an alibi, since I'm sure someone in the list of suspects would want Joe dead, since he might have gotten a vital clue that the culprit didn't want to have revealed."

Diana thought about it. "Let's see… I have been shopping with my friends, since school is over for the summer and since I didn't have work today. We shopped till two o'clock, which was when I went to the restaurant to get my lunch."

"I see… Do you know how to contact them now?"

"Sure, I have their numbers. They'll be sure to prove my alibi at that time. What's more important," she added with a serious expression, "is how I can see Joe. I really want to see him, even though he might be unconscious. Can you tell me where his is?"

"Sorry," Frank said. "I can't take any risk right now. The person who bombed Joe's car might still want to finish him off if he finds that Joe is still alive. So I can't have him following you or us to the hospital."

"Oh," Diana said, disappointed. "I guess that can't be helped, then. I'll get going so I won't disturb your detective work. Oh, and here"—she took out a slip of paper and scribbled something, then handed it to Frank—"is my number. When Joe wakes up, be sure to tell him to call me. I'll be more than glad to talk to him. Bye!"

The girl then turned around. Seeing Iola, she smiled and ran towards her car. The two detectives watched as her car disappeared around the corner.

"Hey, what's that?" asked Iola, pointing to the notebook that Frank was holding.

"Oh, this is Joe's notebook. He has quite a few useful leads in this notebook. He jotted down lots of notes about what the suspects are doing and why they seem suspicious.

"Let's see it," Iola said, looking at the notebook. "Marie-Jacque: ask Nancy about what her reaction was when she saw the locket. Mr. Charlock: be sure to check whether he previously had any connection with the three victims. Mr. Beauchamp: search his connection with Diana. Dr. Devereux: search why he is so stern about his past. Diana:…"

"Hey, there's nothing written about Diana," Iola muttered. "I guess Joe knows that Diana isn't the culprit after all."

"Or because he doesn't want her to be," Frank added. "Either way, Diana is no way less suspicious than the others, since she _is_ on the suspect list."

"I guess."

"And we've been so busy we forgot about talking to Nancy and her friends about Marie-Jacque. I guess we should call her now."

Iola nodded. She then put her hands into her purse to retrieve her cell phone. Taking out her cell phone, she moaned. "Darn. It's not working. I guess it's because I dropped it when I saw the explosion and was so shocked by it. Can I use yours?"

"Okay," Frank said. He then took out his cell phone. "Wait…this isn't my cell phone!"

"What?"

"It's Joe's. For some reason, I think I mixed up Joe's phone and my phone at the hospital. So the phone that I handed to the police must have been mine!"

Iola sighed. "That's what you get for getting a phone that looks exactly like Joe's. I don't understand why brothers have got to have the same phone."

"Well, it _was_ cheaper when we bought two identical phones, and I really liked Joe's phone."

"Anyway, is the phone still working?"

Frank flipped the phone open. "Yup. I'll call Nancy."

* * *

"Joe!?" Nancy shouted as she noticed that the phone call was made from Joe's cell phone. "Is he awake already?"

Bess and George both seemed equally amazed. "Answer the phone!" Bess chided.

Nancy flipped open her cell phone and answered the phone. "Joe? Is it you? Are you all right?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Frank said with an amused tone, "but this is just Frank and Iola. Because Iola's phone broke and I accidentally switched my phone with Joe's, we're using this one to call you. Joe's still unconscious, by the way."

"Oh," Nancy muttered, unable to hide her clear tone of disappointment.

"Well, don't get too discouraged. Anyway, I would like to talk to you about what you found when you went to talk to Marie-Jacque right before lunch."

"Oh, I totally forgot about that. Sorry, it must be because we had to go through so many things… Um, Marie-Jacque said that the first victim, Renee, and the second victim, Martin, knew each other."

"Really?" Frank asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but they seemed to be quarreling when Marie-Jacque saw them together. And also, since Marie-Jacque had a wealthy relative who just died recently, she has tons of money. And Martin used to ask her for quite a sum of money. I think the last time he asked her for money was when he wanted seventy-five hundred euros, which is approximately ten thousand US dollars."

"Wow," muttered Iola, who was listening on the conversation after Frank had pressed the speakerphone button of the cell phone. "So there _is_ something fishy about that man!"

"And afterwards, when I showed the locket that you and Joe found, she became as white as a ghost! Or, I should say, she looked as though she saw a ghost! You know that means."

"Yeah," Frank said with a nod. "This must mean that the photographer knows more than she says. If we are to find more, we should do at least something as drastic as sneaking into her house!"

Nancy chuckled. "I'm not proud to say it, but I'm a pro at doing that. I've cracked at least ten locks before. I'm going with you and help, so tell me where you are. I'm at the hotel, so it might take me at least half an hour to reach Paris."

"You're at the hotel?" Frank asked. "So is Mr. Charlock there?"

The girl detective said yes. "Well, let's say that he has finally made up with his long-lost girlfriend," she added sadly. "Too bad it was not after decades that he could find the last piece of artwork that she left him."

"Oh, so it might be a bad time to ask him about if he had a connection with the three victims before, isn't it?"

"I guess it is, but I'll ask him once he has calmed down a bit. Or more like energized a bit. After he found the final treasure that Joel left him, he's been as enervated as a zombie!" she said, turning to take a look at the owner of the hotel, who was still clutching the painting very tightly. "So where are you? I can leave Mr. Charlock to Bess and George, Ned and I will be able to help you find more clues. How about it?"

Frank smiled. "Okay. I'll go pick you up, so you can come with us. Just don't forget to tell those girls what I told you."

"Roger," Nancy said playfully. "See you in a bit."

* * *

Mr. Drew opened his eyes and immediately sat up. He had dozed off in his office, and his secretary was away for the day. Because he was the only one in the office, he suddenly felt very tired and dozed off.

"Ugh…Must be my age," the middle-aged attorney said, scratching his graying hair. He then looked at the computer display right in front of him. "So…the mystery of the bank robbers that happened ten years ago is still unsolved. But I still believe that Mr. Doyle might be on to something. If Dr. Devereux really _is _one of the robbers, then there is a very high chance that his accomplices might be those who are very close to him, or even his family."

He turned to the computer once again and went to the popular Internet search engine. He typed the name of the professor and pressed the enter key. In matter of seconds, the page opened up a new window, and there were thousands of websites relating to the single professor at a fairly-known university.

"So he is a professor working at the Emerson College and had been working there for the last twenty years. At least, he _was_."

He kept clicking on the links, but he found no lead or clue. As minutes passed, he found a news website and clicked on it. The link directed him to the website, which had an article on a police officer being arrested for accepting bribery from the culprit so he could escape from being caught.

"Police officer…" the man wondered, pausing as he recollected what Mr. Doyle had said to him. "I think I got it!"

Immediately he put on his hat and got out of the office building after he left a note for his secretary, Miss Johnson. Turning on his engine, he then drove straight to the police station.

"Ten years ago, huh?" Lieutenant Wordsworth muttered as he scratched his head. "So you want to see the list of police officers who were not at work on the day of the bank robbery that happened at River Heights Bank? But why?"

"It's because I have a good reason to suspect that one of the officers in this police station might have been working _with_ the bank robbers!" the attorney answered in a voice that only the inspector could hear. "Can I look at the list? I really need to know who was absent when the bank robbery took place."

"That's a serious thing to talk about," the lieutenant said, frowning. "To think that one of my fellow officers might be associated with the bank robbers! That's serious business, all right."

"And since I've known you since high school, I would like to ask you a favor. Is it possible for you to find that file?"

The lieutenant looked at Mr. Drew and grinned broadly. "Is it possible? Well, there isn't anything that's impossible for me in this department."

Mr. Drew was then led to a small room filled with file cabinets labeled with the years. There were labels starting from the year the River Heights Bank was established to the current year, though the older ones' labels were yellowing because of age. Lieutenant Wordsworth then looked at the one with the right label. He then unlocked the door and gestured to the attorney.

"You can search as much as you want, Carson," the man said with a grin. "When you're done, just tell me, but don't make any big noise while you're in here. After all, only people in the police department can actually use this room."

"Well, I'm physically _in_ the department, right?" joked Mr. Drew. "Well, thanks for your help, Lucifer. I'll call your cell phone when I'm done."

"No problem."

As the man left, Mr. Drew began searching through the thick files and folders. He then found the manila folder with the date on which the bank robbery was committed.

"There it is," he muttered as he took it out. "I see…"

The sheet of paper which he held in his hands had about a dozen names on it, from the lower-rank officers to the lieutenants.

"Also," the attorney muttered to himself, "I need to find out which officers were in the department on the day the evidence was allegedly 'lost.'"

He then searched through the files that were in the date that Mr. Doyle had told Mr. Carson. "If my guess it right, an accomplice must be in the police department to be able to 'accidentally' lose the vital evidence, so the police officer who is absent on the day the bank robbery but is present on the day the evidence was lost _must_ be that accomplice."

Mr. Drew then found the file which he wanted. He then compared the two lists. Some of the officers in the first sheet were dead, removed, retired, or quit, so there was no difficulty finding who was in both the lists. However, as he did so, the attorney's eyes got wider and wider with shock.

"That…can't be…" the man muttered. He was so intent on comparing the two sheets that he didn't hear that the door behind him had opened and that someone had gotten inside, right behind him.

"I can't believe it," he murmured as he hastily put the two sheets into his briefcase. "I can't believe that _he_ was the accomplice!"

As he said so, he heard something behind him, but before he could turn around, he felt a blunt object being smashed down onto his head. He moaned as he felt the back of his head, which was now smeared with his blood. Then, as he used his last strength to turn around, he saw a smirking face of a person whom he had trusted all along.

"Lieu…te…nant…Words…worth…" he muttered as his vision blurred. Then, he collapsed down on the floor.

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**Whoa!** **Mr. Drew makes an appearance after many chapters, and now he's in grave danger as one of the police officers who was an accomplice with the robbers knocks him down! What will happen? Will he be okay? Be sure to check out the next chapter, which should be up next Saturday, if not the Saturday after that. Thanks for reading! If you have time, be sure to leave a review. I love nothing more than a nice, constructive comment:-)**


	21. Entrer furtivement

**_Foreword: _Are you excited because the last book of Harry Potter series is coming up? I sure am--not. Seriously, I had no idea that the seventh book was going to be published until June, and some of the fans might have known it since Christmas! Well, because I'm sure at least a few of the readers will be going to that all-night thing to get the book at midnight, I'll post this up a little earlier, since I'm sure those people will be reading that _Harry Potter and the Deadly Hollow_ (or something like that. Sorry, I'm too lazy to look that up!) all day in their rooms on Saturday. Well, good luck with that. I think I'll go get it once it arrives at the library:-) So, for the rest of us non-Harry-freak Muggles, here is the nice little chapter that will unveil a lot of Nancy Drew's adventure in Paris. Will she be able to catch Lord Vol--I mean, the killer--before all the evidence is permanently destroyed? And in this chapter will be the good old Nancy's way of gathering clues: snooping! This chapter will have more things unveiled, and I think might have revealed too much, but if you read it carefully, and if you have a good memory, you will see lots of clues scattered here and there in this chapter alone! Also, there will be a nice little tribute to Harry Potter in this chapter, for all you Harry fans. Hint: look at dates mentioned in this chapter and the title of a book that's in French;-)**

**Sorry at my tone in the previous paragraph. It's that I don't quite like J. K. Rowling. Because I'm an author (and especially a mystery author) myself, I just don't like how she blabbers on and on about what will be "important" in the last book. If you want a list of her "clues," go to wikipedia and look up the last book's title. You'll see loads of hints and spoilers that Rowling herself says during her innumerable interviews. She even says that Aunt Petunia won't use magic in desperate situations! Now, why does she have to erase all these possibilities? I was hoping that Aunt Petunia would turn out to care Harry a lot when he faces danger and uses magic to save him--or something like that. But since I know that's not possible, I'm kind of disappointed, too. _Sigh..._ Anyway, let's just say that I like Harry Potter books, not the author herself. The plot is quite fine, if not marvelous. It kind of reminds me of the earlier Nancy Drew stories in which Nancy must handle many mysteries at once.**

**Also, I have a question about the new Nancy Drew Girl Detective series. The ads say that this series is newer, better, faster, smarter, etc., but after reading the books, I don't see if the storyline is any "faster" than the original series or how "smarter" Nancy is, since Nancy is clearly a ditz because she forgets to put gas in her hybrid a million times! And it's certainly not "better" because the good old originals of the first 30 mysteries in the original series are TONS better than this trash. So, if you find any difference between the old series and the new one (besides the setting and characters, of course), please tell me in your review. I'd really appreciate it.  
**

**Wow! I talked a lot today! I should stop now before I go on too much. Happy sleuthing! Please don't forget to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

_Entrer furtivement_

_**Sneaking In**_

"So what's next?" asked Ned.

Frank and Iola had arrived to the hotel, and the detectives were again trying to figure out their next move. The innkeeper was still sunk deep in his own memories, so there was no way they could get any information from the man.

"I say we go to Marie-Jacque's house," Nancy suggested. "Oh, and call Frank—well, actually Joe's phone—if you see that Mr. Charlock can talk again, okay?"

"Roger that," George said. "Bess and I will keep an eye on him."

"So let's go," Frank said as he got into his car with Iola. "And you don't have to ride in your own car. There are only four of us, anyway, so we can share a car. That's convenient in a lot of ways."

"Good idea," Nancy agreed. She then got into the rear seat with her boyfriend Ned, then the group was off to the photographer's house.

The house looked empty from the outside, since all the curtains had been drawn shut even though the sun was still out. Just to be safe, Nancy knocked on the door several times and called out to Marie-Jacque. There was no answer after a few minutes, so Nancy assumed there was no one in there. Then, she sneaked into the backyard, with Ned watching concernedly, and looked into the house. There was nobody inside, and all the lights were turned off.

"I think she's away," Nancy said. "And I'm sneaking in."

She took out her lock-picking set and started picking the lock. Within seconds, the door was unlocked. Putting on her gloves, the young detective went inside, making sure not to touch anything that she was not supposed to.

The living room was dark and gloomy particularly because the curtains had been drawn. Nancy did not even dare to open the curtain lest someone sees her, and she took out her penlight and looked around.

The first thing she wanted to find was any kind of record written by the photographer. Being a journal-keeper herself, Nancy knew that she would write down anything in her journal, even things that she would hate for the others to know.

"Think, Nancy! If you still kept your journal, where would you hide it?"

The first thought was to look under the pillow, but the girl detective found nothing there. She then looked into the drawers of the desks, but she found nothing of interest. Then, her eyes went to the bookcase at the corner of the woman's bedroom. The books were all neatly put away, but there was one book that was placed in a bookcase, and only the back of the box was visible, not the spine of the book itself. Nancy took that book, and as she had suspected, there was a journal hidden inside the bookcase. The book had the symbol of a crescent moon, the exact one that had been drawn by Dr. Devereux when he was killed! Surprised, the girl detective took out the diary and unlocked it.

Though she knew that reading someone else's journal was morally wrong, she suppressed that feeling and opened the book. Se she did so, her eyes got larger with surprise.

"Oh, my gosh!" she exclaimed silently.

Meanwhile, the other detectives were waiting in the car as they awaited Nancy's return. The day had become much hotter than the day before, so they didn't want to wait outside in the heat. They never felt more thankful that the air conditioning system had been invented.

"How long ha she been in that house?" Iola asked Frank.

"I guess thirty minutes."

"I sure hope she comes back soon," murmured Ned. Just then, he saw a car appear from around the corner. "Wait a minute…" Ned squinted and tried to make out what kind of car it was. It was a small red car, the exactly car that Marie-Jacque had ridden to the hotel!

"Shoot!" Ned muttered as he took out his cell phone and dialed Nancy's number as fast as possible. Within seconds, the girl detective answered.

"What is it, Ned?"

"Nancy, get out of the house as soon as possible! Marie-Jacque's returning!"

"Oh, no! In how many minutes?"

"I don't know, maybe less than a minute. Be sure to get out through the backdoor and wait out there. After Marie-Jacque has entered, I'll give you a call, and you can walk around the side of the house without any windows and meet us at the front yard. Oh, and don't forget to put your cell phone in the silent setting," he added quickly.

"Got it."

Nancy looked around. She needed to make a copy of the page which she was reading. She finally found a scanner by the computer, and she placed the page of the diary on the scanner and made a copy.

As soon as the copy was made, Nancy heard the front door unlock.

"No!" she thought. "She's back already!"

Silently but quickly, the girl detective folded the copy in half and shoved it into her purse. Then, she placed the diary back into the shelf. Afterwards, she sneaked to the kitchen. The front door opened, and just as it shut, the girl detective got out through the backdoor.

But when she closed the door, her cell phone vibrated. Ned had called. Nancy never knew how loud a cell phone's vibration was when there was no other sound in the house. And because of the small noise, there was a slight pause in the footsteps as Marie-Jacque stopped and listened.

"What was that?" the woman murmured anxiously. "Is it a thief?"

Feeling like a real thief, Nancy tiptoed to the side of the house with no window. She almost reached that point when there was a loud crash as she accidentally bumped into a clay pot, which then shattered noisily on the ground.

"What was that!?" a voice came from inside. The person in the house then ran towards the backdoor, and she immediately opened it.

"Now I've done it!" Nancy muttered as she hastily hid herself behind a bush. Marie-Jacque was now walking cautiously with a metal bat which she must have bought to ward off burglars. Nancy held her breath. The woman was only a few yards from Nancy when a ball fell from the sky and onto the bush right behind Marie-Jacque. She immediately turned around, now having her back to Nancy. Nancy caught this as a great chance to escape, and she ran as fast and quietly as she could to the front yard.

In the car, the girl detective let out a large sigh and a gasp. "I thought I would be caught for sure!" she muttered breathlessly.

"Are you okay?" Ned asked worriedly. "What was with that loud crash?"

"I accidentally broke a clay pot, and I would have been caught for sure if that ball didn't come into play."

"You should thank the boy who hit the ball next door," Iola said as she handed Nancy a bottle of water. "The boys were playing baseball when one of them hit a homerun that flew right into that house."

Nancy chuckled. "Wow, I was never more relieved to see a ball! But my risky search wasn't all in vain. I found two interesting thing. The first is the front cover of the diary that Marie-Jacque kept. There was a crescent moon on it, which looks _exactly_ like the picture that Dr. Devereux drew just before he died. The second is the content of that diary. I made the photocopy of the most interesting page right before Marie-Jacque got back."

The three detectives looked at the crumpled-up photocopy. The first entry was dated just a few weeks ago. It read:

"July 21: What a terrible day it was! After I went to the bookstore to buy _Les Reliques de la Mort_, which is a book that I was dying to read for the last two months, I saw Martin talking with that disgusting actress Renee Frazier. I hated her when she was on TV, but I hate her even more when I see her off-screen. And why was Martin talking to that woman? I overheard a bit of their conversation as I sat at the table just a few meters away from them in the same restaurant, and Renee was asking Martin for seventy-five hundred euros. No, it was more like she _demanded_ the money! Why was she demanding money? And why was Martin obeying that vile woman!? Martin then said that he'll ask around for money, since his pay wasn't enough, so I decided to help him a bit. I went to the bank and got the money in cash, but am planning to ask him why he is giving that woman money. From the tone of her voice, I think she might be blackmailing him. If she was, then there can't be any better chance to ruin her career by bringing this to the press. I'm sure the gossipers would jump to hear something like this."

The second entry was dated a couple of days after that:

"July 23: Martin was glad to receive the money, but he refused to talk about why he needed the money. After I asked him persistently, he admitted that he owed Renee a lot of money, so I guess it's not blackmail after all. But I'm still not satisfied. Why is Martin keeping all these from me? Why doesn't he tell me anything even though I'm his fiancée?"

The third entry was dated a week from the previous one:

"July 30: I was amused to hear how that nasty Renee had been in trouble with money. Serves that woman right! It was told on the news that she had been gambling a bit too much, and her bills are going sky-high. But I know why she doesn't seem too concerned. It's because of Martin. If Martin keeps giving her money, then she will keep getting money. I will not tolerate Martin's being treated like this. I would like to see that woman suffer, but I can't do anything about it. If only I knew why Martin had to give her money…"

That was the end of the photocopied pages. The four detectives looked at each other.

"Jackpot," Ned said with a grin. "I guess now we're seeing the motives. From the tone of this journal entry, I think Marie-Jacque is more than willing to kill Renee to help Martin. And there's the problem with money. I still think that Martin is blackmailed, and Renee knows something about him that nobody else does."

"…I guess it's time to search Renee's house," Nancy said.

Sneaking into Renee's house was much easier and more carefree than the suspects' houses. Nancy found no diary in her home, but she managed to find something just as interesting.

From Renee's house, she took the woman's data CDs. Nancy said as she took them out of her purse, "I figured that if she knew something bad about him, she must have the record of what she was blackmailing him about. And if you look at theses CDs, I'm sure we'll eventually find something that's out of the ordinary."

"I see," Ned said. "So let's start looking."

After a while, the detectives found a file with the name "Martin." They opened the document, and they saw only a few lines of text written.

"Peaklodge Mountain, July 15. 4 pm. Audrey Jensen."

"What does it mean?" Nancy wondered aloud.

Frank shrugged. "Maybe we'll find something once we look at what happened at Peaklodge Mountain. It's pretty close to Bayport, actually."

However, Nancy noticed that as she clicked at the bottom of the document, there seemed to be a text hidden in it. She dragged the mouse over the blank spaces beneath the initial sentence and saw that more messages began to appear.

"What is this?" she wondered. The others looked.

Nancy read the message aloud:

"'You'll regret it, Martin Rousseau. You _will_ regret dumping me!! And I _will_ make your life miserable, you two-timer! You're lucky I didn't tell that rich girlfriend of yours about your other girlfriend, Annette. If I did, you'll be as poor as church mouse after she leaves you. What a sight to see!! I wouldn't dare miss that out!'"

The foursome looked at each other.

"Wow, she surely hates Martin," Ned remarked.

"And what a loser he was!" Iola said disgustedly. "To borrow money from his fiancée and to two-time on her! What a nerve he must have!"

Nancy took the CD from the laptop and placed it back inside its case. "Now I should be calling Dad and get help with this case. I can't search nearly as efficiently on the Internet. Dad can virtually look up anything anywhere!"

She took out her cell phone and called her father. However, the message stated that he was either away to a place where the signal was not reaching or had his cell phone turned off. She sighed and flipped her phone shut. She then looked at Frank.

"Frank," she said. "Your father is a private investigator, right? Then can you ask him to search this for us? I can't reach my dad right now, and I need the info as soon as possible."

Frank nodded. He called his father, who was more than eager to help, and Mr. Hardy agreed to investigate the case right away.

"This is one case off our back," Nancy then said, sighing.

"Now we should get back to the hotel," Frank suggested. "Mr. Charlock must have come to his senses by now."

Nancy sighed again.

"What's wrong?" Ned asked.

"It's just that I can't figure out the trick that was used in the second murder. Just think about this. Iola saw Martin get killed in Renee's room. And then we found _one_ set of footprints leading to the cabin. In the cabin we found Martin's body. But if the killer killed Martin, carried his body to the cabin, and left it there, then how did he vanish?"

Frank shrugged. "Oh, I think it's time to use that notebook," he then said with a grin. He took out Joe's notebook. Nancy looked at it confusedly.

"This is the notebook that Dad gave Joe, and there are tons of useful tips in here. Let's see…His first hint would be this: Do not believe everything that you see or hear from others, no matter how reliable he or she is."

Nancy listened to the tip, and suddenly something in her mind fell into place. The big jigsaw puzzle that she was unable to complete was starting to come together!

"I get it now!" she exclaimed. "So what we thought was there actually _wasn't_!"

The others looked perplexedly at Nancy while she told Frank to drive as fast as possible to go to the hotel. "I have something in mind," she added with a grin.

Once back at the hotel, the detectives went to the old innkeeper, who was sipping a cup of coffee that Bess had made. George grinned as she saw the detectives.

"So…Found anything?"

"A lot," Nancy answered. "But first, Frank and Iola, can you go talk to Mr. Charlock? I'll go look for something."

Frank agreed and stayed with Iola. Nancy then rushed to the cabin, with Bess, George, and Ned following her. As they reached the cabin, Nancy looked at inside the cabin. She grinned. "Just as I thought. There's just little amount of blood. This means that Martin was killed somewhere else and then carried to this cabin. Now, we'll have to find the place where he was killed."

Nancy then went outside again and to the back of the cabin. She squinted. There was nothing out of the ordinary, with dried mud everywhere. She thought about it and nodded. Without answering her friends' calls, she ran back to the hotel and came back with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Confused, the others asked her why she needed that.

"It's a little science experiment," she said with a wink. She started pouring small amounts of the liquid onto the ground. Then, she stopped as she saw the fizzing that took place at a certain spot. She poured some more around the area and found that mud around that place was also fizzing. She stopped.

"That's definitely it," she said. "Martin wasn't killed in Renee's room, as Iola had said. He was killed here."

* * *

_**Postscript: **_**What does she mean when Nancy said that what they thought was there actually wasn't? And why was killed behind the cabin when his demise was witnessed by Iola herself? Find out more in the next chapter of this story, which will be up next Friday. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much as you'll enjoy Harry Potter! (Well, if you like Harry Potter books, that is.)  
**


	22. La cabane enflammée

**_Foreword: _Sorry I didn't update for the last three weeks! I was too busy and couldn't focus, so here is the latest chapter. From this chapter, the pace will increase dramatically, so be prepared for the roller coaster ride of suspense and thrill!**

**This story will be the last full-length ND/HB mystery I'll write. But that doesn't mean that I won't write any ND/HB fanfic! The next story I will write is a Nancy Drew Only (No Hardy Boys) short story that has about six chapters. They'll have simpler plots but will go into the world of Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys much deeper than the full-length ones. Be sure to check those out!**

**Please enjoy this action-packed chapter and submit a review!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_La cabane enflammée_

_**The Fiery Cabin**_

George, Bess, and Ned all looked dumbfounded.

"Um…What?" asked Bess.

"It's simple," Nancy explained. "Hydrogen peroxide reacts with blood to form these bubbles. Therefore, the places that had been splattered with blood but were then covered by mud should fizz when I pour the chemical onto the area. Therefore, seeing the amount of blood that got on the ground, I think the victim was stabbed here and then was dragged into the cabin."

Bess was shaken. "Then what about the body?" she asked. "What was the body that Iola had seen?"

Nancy shrugged. "I haven't gotten a clue. It's either the murderer used an accomplice or used something else to substitute the body that wasn't there."

"What do you mean?"

"If you wake up, your vision would be hazy, especially after you've been knocked out. And when you see a figure sitting in front of you with a 'body,' then you would think that the figure was a person. So Iola must have mistaken the thing that the killer was stabbing was actually a human being!"

George nodded. "I see how that can work. But then, if that's the trick that the killer had used, then the crime itself _is_ possible."

Nancy beamed. "Exactly. So the killer first kills Martin back here at the cabin, drags his body, and then goes back into the hotel. When it starts to rain, the killer then walks to the cabin and waits till the rain stops. This was perhaps when he knocked Iola out and brought her to Renee's room. As the rain stops, the first set of footprints that he had left would be washed away, and he would then walk backwards from the cabin to the hotel. After this is done, he can shake Iola a bit and wait for her to stir. Then, as if he hasn't noticed her, he stabs the fake body in front of her and gives her the impression that he was killing somebody in that room. He then turned around pretending to just find out that Iola was awake and knocked her out again by pressing her vein and cutting off blood supply to her head. When someone does that, a person will lose consciousness in about twenty or thirty seconds. He then left the room unnoticed and hides in his own room until he hears the commotion."

As the explanation was done, the detectives looked at Nancy, surprised. "Hypers!" George exclaimed. "That's one wicked trick! I mean, knocking someone _twice_ is not something everyone can do!"

Nancy nodded. "But if my plan was correct, then there's no real evidence, since I'm sure the killer didn't leave any fingerprints."

Ned sighed. "So now, even though we know how it was done, we should find out who it was done by?"

Nancy nodded again. "And something proving that he or she killed them."

"We should go see Frank and Iola now," Bess said. "I'm sure they got something out of Mr. Charlock."

Back in the hotel, the four detectives asked the two other detectives what they found. Frank shook his head, saying that Mr. Charlock had only met Renee before the murders. "Apparently, she was the one who invited the others to come to the hotel," he added. "Anything new going on with you?"

Nancy summed up everything that she had found out in the time that the other two detectives had been using to question Mr. Charlock. Frank and Iola were astounded by the revelation.

"That's amazing!" Iola complimented. Nancy smiled.

"But what should we do now with the evidence?" asked Ned. "Where should we look?"

"I'm sure the evidence is lying somewhere that we hadn't been able to turn our eyes to. There must be at least one piece of evidence at the scene of the crime. The problem is, which one should we analyze? Analyzing one piece of string, for example, can still take a few hours, even days."

Bess then seemed to have an idea. "Say," she began. "If the trick Nancy described was used, then won't there be a humanlike figure still left in the hotel? I mean, it's not something that you can take in or out very easily."

"That's it! You're a genius, Bess!" Nancy said with a pat on her friend's back. "That's it! If we find a life-size doll, for instance, in the suspect's room, then that will be the absolute evidence!"

"So should we explain this to the suspects and have their rooms searched?" asked George.

"Yes, let's. Or should we wait for the police to arrive?"

"I think so. I don't want to be in trouble with the French police."

The detective called the police, but the operator said that they needed forty minutes to arrive there.

"So I guess we should wait," said Nancy as she saw other detectives' disappointment.

They sat and waited for ten minutes. Then, they began to hear odd sound and smell.

"Is…is something in the oven?" Bess asked Mr. Charlock.

"No, I'm not cooking anything," the innkeeper replied, worried.

"Then where is this odd burning smell coming from?" George muttered as she looked around. "And what's that sound?"

Odd enough, the smell of burning wood and the sound of something collapsing were both coming from outside. The detectives immediately looked out the window, and to their shock and dismay, they saw that the cabin outside was burning!

"What's happening?" asked Mr. Charlock. As he saw the great fire swallowing the small cabin, he immediately gave a cry and dashed out the window.

"No! Mr. Charlock!" Nancy called out to the man, but he ignored her and ran toward the cabin. Turning to Frank and Ned, she shouted, "Stop him! I'm not sure what he'll do when he gets to the fire!"

Frank and Ned nodded, and ran after the man. The girls followed and, to Nancy's great relief, saw the boys stopping Mr. Charlock just yards away from the fire.

"Hurry! Stop the fire!" Nancy shouted as she grabbed the garden hose. Ned immediately turned the water on and began spraying the cabin.

"But why?" Nancy thought as she watched her boyfriend trying to stop the flame. "Why would anyone want to destroy the cabin? And why did they do it now?"

The small amount of water was no match for the fire, and the fire showed no sign of shrinking as it burned the entire cabin.

Bess looked, horrified, at the cabin. She was backing away from the heat when she saw the inside of the cabin through the open window. Her eyes got large, and she let out a loud, piercing scream.

George noticed her cousin as Bess fell on her bottom on the ground, too terrified to walk.

"What's the matter?" George asked, pulling Bess to her feet.

Bess, however, was too shocked to speak. "S-s-s-s-some-o-o-one," she stuttered, her entire body shaking with fear.

"It's okay," George said as she comforted her cousin. Nancy and Iola ran to the frightened girl. Ned and Frank, however, could not move because Frank was supporting Mr. Charlock, and Ned was still trying to extinguish the fire, now using the fire extinguisher that he brought from the hotel.

Bess tried to breathe, and as she was calmer, but her entire body was still shaking, she shouted, "Someone's still inside!!"

Nancy, George, and Iola were all shocked to hear this. Nancy went as close to the fiery cabin as she could. Peering inside the window that the arsonist had left open to improve the flow of air, Nancy looked at the inside of the cabin. She, too, gasped in shock as she indeed saw a person lying down on the floor, covered from head to toe in fire. The fire had already engulfed him.

Iola screamed as she saw this, and she immediately backed away, her hands covering her eyes as she saw the gruesome scene.

"Oh my god!" she screamed with tears pouring from her eyes. "Oh, my GOD!"

Nobody could do anything until the fire was out. As smoke rose from the remains of the cabin, the detectives went to check who was inside. To their surprise and relief, the only thing in the cabin was a human-shaped life-size doll, which had been burned to a crisp.

"Who would do something as awful as this!?" Bess said crossly.

Nancy looked at the doll and muttered, "This might have been what was used in the second murder!"

The others looked at the girl detective. "What do you mean?" George asked.

"This was placed in front of the killer, and the killer made a stabbing motion. This made an illusion that the killer was actually stabbing a real person to Iola!"

Just as she said this, Frank's phone rang. It was from Mr. Lefèvre. "I got a good news," the man said proudly. "We caught the man who placed the bomb into your car. He's in the station right now, and you might want to come and take a look. The culprit was Serge Beauchamp."

Frank was surprised. "How did you find out?"

"We looked at the surveillance video that was placed at the scene of the crime. It was a hidden one, so only the police knew about it. We caught the culprit on the tape, red handed!"

After he hung up, he explained what he heard to the other detectives.

"Wow," Nancy muttered, impressed. "I can't believe the case was solved that easily!"

Iola was on the verge of tears. "And I can't believe Uncle Serge set the bomb!"

Frank went to his car. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!"

At the station, the detectives immediately went to see the owner of the bakery. He was shocked to see Frank and Iola. He then looked down like a child who was forced to discipline.

"I…I was afraid that my relationship with Diana was going to be revealed," he muttered uneasily, "because I didn't want her to be upset."

"Diana?" asked Frank. "What are you saying?"

"Diana is my niece."

This was not everyone had expected to hear. Their surprised expression could not be concealed, and they gasped as they took in the shocking new information.

"B-but why didn't you want us to find that out?" asked Bess.

The man looked as uneasy as ever. "Her father, Dennis Windham, and I are cousins. Dennis and Nicholas Devereux were best friends. Ten years ago, we three desperately needed money to pursue our dreams, so we…we decided to form a group and get quick cash." He sobbed as he wiped his eyes with his shirt. "We robbed the River Heights Bank!"

This again caught the detectives off guard. Nancy looked the most satisfied. "So you and the other two robbed the bank? I knew it! I knew Dr. Devereux knew more than he let on!"

Mr. Beauchamp sniffed loudly. "But Nicholas and Dennis had an argument as to how much each of us could get. We all needed money, but the money that we had was limited. So we decided to get a certain amount of money first and then buried the money in some other place. But Nicholas then tried to get money for himself, so Dennis stopped him when he tried to dig the money out. And…and…"

The others watched as the middle-aged man continued his confession.

"The two got into a quarrel. Even though I ended the fight, Nicholas then went to Dennis's house a few days later and killed him!"

"So the person who killed Diana's father was Dr. Devereux!" George muttered, shocked and disgusted. "Gosh, money can sure change people!"

"But why didn't you tell this to the police if you already knew this?" asked Nancy.

Mr. Beauchamp sniffed loudly again. "Because I was afraid that the money would all be taken away, I would be put to jail, and all the other family members, including my favorite niece Diana, would have to live with this cruel truth!"

"But why did you kill Renee and Martin?" Bess asked angrily. "They didn't do anything to you!"

Mr. Beauchamp's look of sorrow turned into terror. "No, no! I didn't kill anyone! I didn't even kill Nicholas! Please believe me! I just tried to scare Frank, Joe, and Iola enough so they wouldn't go any deeper into the past!"

The detectives looked at each other in confusion. "Then who is the killer?" muttered Ned.

Just then, Frank's cell phone rang again. The display said "Frank" on it, so he figured that it was perhaps Joe calling. He answered it.

"Frank? This is terrible!" a familiar voice said. The voice belonged to the doctor who examined Joe. "I went in for the examination, but Joe is gone! He disappeared!"

* * *

**_Postscript: _Wow! Lots of stuffs happening here! Where can Joe be? Will Mr. Drew be okay? Who is the _real_ killer? So many questions, but so few answers! Be sure to check back next week. If the file is not up by next Sunday, check on Friday after that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to review!**


	23. Qui estce?

**_Foreword: _Hi. Do you still remember me? If you don't, that's normal. I've stopped updating this story for...I won't even say how long. I really hope you still remember what this story was about. Even I had to reread my own story to understand where I was...**

(Sigh) **Well, here's the first chapter in the series of revelation chapters in which the final twists and complete unraveling of mysteries take place! Enjoy! And see you soon! (For real this time)**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_**Qui est-ce?**_

Who is it?

Joe exited the taxicab and took a deep breath. It was soothing to breathe in the air that drifted from the ocean. It tasted salty but refreshing, allowing his mind to relax.

It was nearly six in the afternoon, but the sun was far from the horizon. The light shone with vigor reflected on the ocean surface and into Joe's eyes, forcing him to squint as he faced the ocean.

He had never come to this place before, but this place was where he was most attached to. The ocean breeze and the high cliff made a perfect combination.

It was still early. He had twenty minutes to spare. He took out a cell phone from his pocket. It was Frank's, who wanted Joe to call him as soon as he regained consciousness. He opened the e-mail and began typing. Then, with a grin, he sent it.

"Where could Joe have gone to?" Frank muttered, frustrated. He scratched his head and groaned. "That idiot…"

The detectives were all in the hospital room where Joe had been sleeping just a few hours before. But now, they were staring directly at the empty bed and the rope made from bed sheets that hang from the leg of the bed out the window. The rope was long enough to reach the ground, thereby safely allowing the escapee to get out of the room without anybody seeing him.

"At least he wasn't kidnapped," Nancy said, her breathing still rough from running. She took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as she could. "Now we have to find out where he went… and why."

Bess looked at the table by the bed. There was a laptop on the table, with its power cord plugged into the power outlet in the wall. "Hey, is this laptop yours or Joe's?"

Frank looked at the laptop. "It doesn't belong to either of us." He took it and turned it around. At the back was the name of the hospital. "I see… This is the laptop that the hospital loans to its patients."

"That is right," the doctor said. "But this computer can only do simple tasks such as typing up a document or surfing the Internet. We usually place it in the desk drawer."

Frank nodded. "When we left, I was sure there was no laptop on the desk. That means Joe must have taken it out after he regained consciousness."

Nancy immediately went to the laptop and booted it. "Darn," she muttered. "Just as I thought, the history is erased clean."

"Let me try," George said, sitting down next to her friend. With a few mouse clicks and typing on the keyboard, she looked back at Nancy and grinned. "I found the history. It seems like Joe only went to one website, which is…Huh?"

Nancy looked at the computer screen. George's word described it; what she saw was completely unexpected. Ned and Frank read the website as well, and their expression turned just as confused as Nancy's.

"W…Why would Joe want to visit this website?" Frank muttered.

In front of the detectives, the website's blue-and-white background that showed the Greek flag danced around with the website's title shown clearly in the center: "The Complete List of Gods and Goddesses in Greek and Roman Mythologies."

Before anyone could make heads or tails of this situation, Nancy's cell phone vibrated. "Yikes," she muttered, blushing. "I forgot that cell phones aren't allowed in the hospital. Sorry." The girl detective immediately took it out of her purse, and as soon as she saw it, her round eyes got even rounder.

"It's an e-mail," she muttered, "from Joe!"

"Let me see!" Frank shouted, grabbing Nancy's hand so he could see the message that his brother sent:

"I know who the killer is. Meet me in the hotel in thirty minutes."

Frank angrily hit the table with his bare hand. "That idiot!" he shouted through clenched teeth.

Nancy frowned after rereading the message. "It doesn't make sense," she muttered. "Why would Joe need to escape from the hospital? Why didn't he just talk to us about this?"

"Who knows?" Frank said, his voice deep and furious. "All we need to do is go to the hotel, and I'll give my little brother a piece of my mind for making me worry like that."

The detective immediately ran to the car. Iola and Frank jumped into their car as the rest went into Nancy's. Ned started the engine.

"I don't get it," George muttered. "How did Joe find out who the murderer was? He didn't get any time to do investigations, right?"

"It must be that website," Ned suggested. "I'm sure there's a vital hint in there somewhere."

"Like what?" Bess asked. "I took a quick glance at the site, but all I saw was just names of gods and goddesses, like Jupiter and Aphrodite."

Nancy remained quiet. "Guys," she said. "Can you make a list of suspects' names?"

"Sure can," George nodded, taking out a sheet of paper. "There's Diana Windham, Marie-Jacque Dernier, Clement Charlock, and Serge Beauchamp."

Ned stopped the car at the red signal light. After George wrote everyone's names down, Nancy took the list from George. Staring at the list for a while, she muttered, "Maybe it has to do with the mysterious picture that Dr. Devereux drew before he died."

"That picture of a crescent moon?" asked Ned.

Nancy nodded. "It has to be. Think, guys! What do you think of when you see that picture?"

Bess closed her eyes. "Oh!" she muttered excitedly. "Croissants! You know, that really delicious pastry that looks like the crescent moon!"

George chuckled wryly, "You can always depend on Bess to think of food."

"But if that's the case," Ned said, "then the killer must be Serge Beauchamp. Remember? His bakery's name is 'Croissant Patisserie'!"

Bess and George both nodded. Only Nancy shook her head at Ned's idea.

"That can't be, Ned," Nancy said. "If he really killed those people, he must be really trying to avoid the police. If the police starts investigation with him in mind as the prime suspect, I'm sure it's just the matter of time before a vital evidence is found."

"Then what can that crescent moon mean?" Bess asked back.

This time, it was George who answered, "I got it! The killer is Marie-Jacque Dernier!"

"Why?" asked Ned.

George smiled. "Let's say that the picture represents the actual moon. Being a crescent moon means that three-fourths of its visible surface from Earth is hidden in shadows. If I learned my astronomy right, the moon's phase changes from new moon to waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, full moon, waning gibbous, last quarter, waning crescent, and then back to new moon, right?"

Bess imagined the moon in her head. "Yeah," she agreed. "But what does that have to do with this?"

"Don't you see?" George said excitedly, showing Bess the picture of the crescent moon. "Only the left edge of the moon is visible in this picture. That means this moon is 'waning crescent'."

Bess thought about it for another moment. "Yeah," she muttered again. "So?"

George was too excited to answer calmly. "You and I have both taken French for how many years? How do you say 'waning crescent' in French, Bess?"

Before Bess could open her mouth, Ned gave the answer: "'Dernier croissant' or 'derniere quartier.'" He then smiled. "So the only person with the word 'Dernier' in his or her name is Marie-Jacque Dernier. That's what you want to say, right?"

George nodded, her proud smile shining brightly like Sirius in the night sky.

Nancy smiled. "It's good that you remembered what you learned from astronomy class, but I must say this isn't the case."

At this, the shining smile on George's face dimmed. "Why?"

Nancy took the sheet from George's hand once again. She drew the crescent moon on it, and showed it to George. "Which moon is this?"

"Waning crescent."

Nancy flipped the picture. "Now, which moon is this?"

"Waxing cres…. Oh, darn!"

Nancy smiled. "See? The picture can be interpreted in any way, depending on where you are looking at it. If Dr. Devereux drew it facing him, then it would be a waning crescent, but if he wanted someone to see it, he would draw it upside down because he would be facing them."

Ned nodded. "Yes, so he can't leave a message that can be interpreted in more than one way because it would just confuse the police. The last thing he'd want is to let his murderer escape the law."

The car came to another red signal light. This time, Ned took the sheet of paper and drew the picture again, only this time leaving a small space between the left half and the right half of the crescent.

"What I think is much simpler," he said, showing the girls his picture. "Maybe Dr. Devereux wanted to show something like this, only his hand slipped and the two halves of the crescent ended up touching one another at two spots?"

Nancy looked at the picture. "Oh, I get it," she murmured. "So you think he meant to write 'CC' but ended up making the top and the bottom of the two C's touch one another, forming a crescent."

Ned started the car as the signal turned green once again. "It's simple and logical," he commented. "The killer must be Mr. Clement Charlock, whose initials are CC."

Bess sighed. "Okay, so it _is_ logical and simple, but it doesn't explain _why_ Joe went to the website about Greek and Roman mythologies."

"Greek and Roman…" Nancy muttered. With a sudden gasp, the girl detective turned to George.

"George! Did you transfer that website's URL into your Blackberry?"

Confused by the unexpected request from her friend, George blinked a few times before she answered, "Um, yeah. Wanna see it?"

"Please! If my hunch is right, the Romans may be holding the key to this mystery!"

Bess and George looked at each other, but said nothing.

Nancy took George's Blackberry and scrolled down the website that Joe went to and looked at the long list of foreign names. She stopped immediately as she saw a familiar name and smiled.

"I know who it is," she said.

* * *

Joe stared at the horizon that seemed to stretch forever into the distance. The breeze was relieving because his head had been sore from getting hit as the result of the explosion.

The area around the hotel was deserted, as usual. The police already sealed the place off, allowing nobody to enter. Thus, Joe was now standing in front of the main entrance, looking up at the great hotel that had seen better days long ago.

A car parked next to Joe's. It was a beautiful Volvo, sparkling under the cloudless summer sky. From where he stood, Joe did not even have to turn around to see who it was. That curvy body, that platinum blond hair, and that bright expression that always concealed the sorrowful sentiment deep inside…

Diana Windham smiled as she approached Joe. "Hi," she said, flashing a grin and waving. "You e-mailed me, right?"

Joe nodded and made a smile. "I was waiting for you."

For a short moment that seemed to last an hour, neither spoke to one another. But as the summer breeze blew into the dark forest, Joe opened his mouth.

"Diana," he said with a small sigh, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?"

Joe stared into Diana's eyes. "Why did you kill them?"

Another long pause followed. Diana's expression remained the same, and she showed no change in her mask-like smile.

"What?" she asked softly. "You must be joking."

Joe slowly walked toward the young woman. "I've always had that strange feeling since the day I met you here in France. You were so nice, so fragile, and perfectly resembled the 'Diana Windham' who I always remembered." He stopped three yards away from the woman. "But you were 'too' perfect. Everything you said—every single action of yours—was planned beforehand, wasn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Diana, her expression as solid as a rock. "You remember me, right, Joe? I'm Diana, the girl whom you had your first crush on when you were…"

"Stop," Joe ordered, his voice stern and deep. "Please."

Diana closed her mouth.

Joe stared at Diana once more, this time with more hatred and sorrow.

"You are not Diana."

* * *

**_Postscript: _What can Joe mean by the last sentence? How did "Diana" manage to kill all those people? And what were her motives? A dreadful past and a tragic future awaits in Chapter 23: _Tu m'aimes?_ **(You love me?)**  
**


	24. Tu m’aimes?

**_Foreword: _The story is nearing the end, and every shocking truth will be revealed... But I don't want you to forget about Mr. Drew, who was captured last time by Lieutenant Wordsworth, whose nickname is Lucifer. What happened to him? This chapter is like two short chapters put together, with a cliffhanger at the end of each part, so this chapter has double cliffhangers...which means more excitement when reading next chapter! I hope you'll enjoy the latest installment of _Broken Promises_. And if you have time, please review.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_Tu m'aimes?_

**_You love me?_**

Carson Drew woke up. The place where he was kept was dark and damp. It was also slightly cold. In the complete darkness, it took him quite a while for his eyes to adjust to the surroundings. He looked around slowly. It was…a warehouse.

"Awake, are you?" a voice said from behind him. Carson tried to turn around, but found himself bound with a very thick rope. He could not move his arms or legs. He was tied to a large pillar, and his feet were tied together and stretched outward in front of him. It was impossible to move any muscle besides his head, but he did not have to turn around to know who the speaker was.

"What do you want, Lucifer?"

Lieutenant Wordsworth chuckled. "Please don't call me by that nickname," he said. "I know how devil-like I may look when I'm interrogating suspects, but that nickname is used too often like my real name, don't you think?"

"What do you want, _Alfonse_?" Carson restated his question, this time spitting out the last word.

Alfonse waved his hands around in an exaggerated gesture. "Revenge, money, fame… Where do I start?"

"I know all about your pathetic past." Carson glared at the man as he approached him. "You were the accomplice of the bank robbers. You sneaked into the police department's evidence room and _accidentally_ lost the most vital clue. Without it, you figured that nobody would ever come across the truth. Isn't that right?"

Alfonse laughed. "How amusing to hear you explain everything as though you've seen them firsthand. Please, go on."

In the darkness, Carson could see that his captor was holding something, only he could not see exactly what it was. He could perceive that it was metallic, rectangular, and…

The moonlight coming from the window high up near the ceiling shone on the object in the man's hand. Carson could clearly see what it was.

It was a cell phone.

Carson did not know what it was for, but he continued to explain his reasoning.

"The day your comrades committed the robbery, you were there with them, acting as their cab driver. When they succeeded in retrieving the money, you drove up to the bank's entrance and allowed them to escape. I'm sure there were a few police cars chasing you. But I know you well enough; your driving technique was amazing when we were both in high school, and I'm sure this ability hasn't waned a bit. Using this talent that you had, you managed to lose the police cars and successfully escape.

"But there was a problem. When you heard that one of the people in the bank actually grabbed some hair sample from the robber, you made sure to get rid of that evidence. But what you did not realize that your plan is also easily figured out."

Alfonse looked questioningly at the attorney. "What do you mean?"

"It's the attendance record," Carson said, his mouth forming a sneer. "Just like high school, there is a complete record of what day each officer took a day off. You were absent on the day of the robbery but was present the day the precious hair sample was lost.

"But nobody got suspicious of you. After all, you were a close friend of mine and a veteran officer. Who in their right mind would suspect a perfect man like you?"

Carson took a deep breath and chuckled. "But you see, sometimes you _must_ be unreasonable in life. Everybody is a suspect, even the most prominent of police officers.

"But there's more," the attorney continued. "Everything would soon work out fine. The statute of limitations on a robbery is only ten years, and in only a few days you will reach that limit; after that, you will never get caught no matter what new evidence the police might find out."

Alfonse listened intently to the explanation, and as soon as it was over he clapped his hand mechanically. "Very well done," he said in a monotone. "Well, what do you think is going to happen next, Mr. Detective-Attorney?"

"I'll escape," Carson said. "And you will go to prison for a long time, Alfonse. I won't forgive you for betraying my trust."

Alfonse flipped open his cell phone. Without a word he showed Carson the display. It showed the time, which was ten minutes before nine. He had been knocked out for at least four hours.

"Old age, huh?" Alfonse said with a chuckle. "I'm sure you would have awoken in less than an hour when you were still in your twenties."

"Get to the point," Carson said, making his voice as calm as possible. He first had to find out what the man was up to. "What are you planning to do?"

Alfonse snickered. "You should think about that yourself, but I'll tell you…Somewhere in this warehouse is a bomb that I can activate with my cell phone."

Carson's eyes stared at his captor in dismay. "You're planning to blow up this place?"

Alfonse checked the time. "I have to go back to the headquarters to make myself an alibi before I blow you up. It's simple but very effective. Don't worry; the device with which I activate the bomb won't be discovered because everything within a fifty-yard radius of this warehouse will be blown to smithereens…including you."

With a final laugh, the man left the warehouse, leaving the attorney with a shocked expression on his face and no way out.

* * *

Diana's smile remained unchanged. She was unusually calm and composed, not showing a least bit of confusion or shock at being called a murderer and a fake.

"You don't mean that, Joe," she said, her voice icily sweet and soft,"that I'm a killer? Besides, there's no way I could have murdered anyone. When Renee was murdered, the room was completely locked, and the key was returned to the reception desk, right? How did I enter the room without the key?"

Joe observed the expression of the woman in front of him. Everything about her was like the Diana Windham that he remembered as a kid, but he could not feel any emotion at seeing her face. The first time he saw her, he felt surprised and somewhat awkward. Even though they remembered each other, Joe could not shake off that strange feeling since the moment he saw her at the café here in France.

However, it took Joe quite a while to find out that she was a fake. But right after that explosion in which he was nearly killed, he had a long time to sort out the events and rethink the entire case in his head.

Now, everything had an answer.

"You didn't kill Renee inside the room. In fact, the trick used was very simple." He took out something from his pocket. After squinting a bit, Diana realized that it was a long piano wire, almost invisible if there was no sunlight reflecting off its shiny surface.

"A piano wire?"

Joe nodded. "The killer first had to knock Renee out. One end of this wire was tied to the back of her necklace, and the other end was brought up to the ceiling light and outside through the small slit under the door. The killer had to lock the door, return the key to the front desk, and pull the wire from the outside so that the necklace would be pulled up to the ceiling, thereby choking the victim to death."

Diana listened intently with an intrigued expression as if she was watching a magician pull a rabbit out of his hat.

"That's a wonderful deduction, Joe," Diana said gleefully, clapping her hands. "But there's one fact missing: the killer has to be strong enough to pull Renee's body."

Joe nodded. "That's right. You and Marie-Jacque are women and not nearly strong enough to pull the body of a woman who is much taller than you, and Mr. Charlock is too old to do this, so only one person in the suspect list seemed to meet this requirement: Dr. Devereux." Joe shrugged. "But he was killed."

"So nobody in the hotel at that time could have killed Renee," Diana concluded Joe's thoughts for him. "This alone is evidence enough to persuade the police that I'm not the killer."

The detective's expression remained stern and serious, contrasting that of Diana perfectly. "There's one person who could have done this."

"Really? Who?"

"Martin Rousseau."

The corner of Diana's mouth twitched slightly.

"He was your accomplice. It wasn't you who killed Renee, but Martin, who used his strength to pull that trick. You then killed _him_ when you no longer needed him." Joe bit his lip.

"B…But, don't you remember what happened when he was killed? Your friend Iola watched Martin getting killed, and there was a trail of shoeprints leading from the room to the cabin. This means that the killer escaped through the window to the cabin, right? But the killer disappeared right after he went into the cabin!"

Joe shook his head. "No, that's not it. It's perfectly possible that the killer walked backwards from the cabin to the window. And for your information, Martin was not killed in that room—he was killed at the back of the cabin before it started to rain."

"That's absurd! That would leave a trail of blood leading to the window if the killer walked backwards carrying Martin's body! Besides, how can anyone carry Martin's body like that? He weighs twice as much as I do!"

Joe chuckled. "If you use a wheeler, that's a piece of cake. Because the ground is solid before it rains, you don't have to worry about leaving a trail behind. All you had to do was carry Martin's body to the hotel room, make someone witness your 'murder' and then climb up to the room right above, which was yours, if I remember correctly."

Diana smiled. "Very nice. Okay, so maybe I have a chance at committing these crimes. But what evidence do you have?"

Joe remained quiet. "Do you remember the moments after we discovered Iola with Martin's body?"

The woman nodded.

Joe looked up. "Where were you?"

"I was in my room."

"You were the first person to enter the room after I discovered Iola. The next people to come into the room were Marie-Jacuque, Dr. Devereux, Mr. Charlock, and Nancy."

Diana frowned. "That just means I happened to be nearby. So what?"

"It doesn't mean anything. But do you remember what Bess said to you when you asked what was the matter?"

"No; I don't have photographic memory."

"'Iola has been attacked by someone. And she says that she witnessed someone being killed right in front of her eyes,'" Joe recited. "That's exactly what Bess said to you."

Diana sneered. "Okay? And?"

"And when the others came, you explained to them: 'Iola was attacked by someone, and she also witnessed someone being stabbed to death.'" Joe stared coldly at Diana. "How did you know that the victim was 'stabbed'? All Bess said was that the victim was being 'killed.'"

Diana's jaw muscle tensed. "I…I just assumed so. How many ways do you think there are to kill a person?"

Joe chuckled. "Poisoned, strangled, shot, burned, drowned… I can think of plenty."

"But that's not strong enough as evidence. You need to have solid proof!"

"I _do_ have solid proof." Joe took out a plastic bag from his pocket. Contained in it was the locket that Joe and Frank found outside the hotel.

"That's…"

"This is the locket we found outside the hotel," Joe explained. "The inscription says that it's from Martin Rousseau. So I assumed it was a gift to his girlfriend, since it said 'To my love.'"

Diana remained quiet.

"This locket was found on the path leading to the cabin. It was nearly buried in dirt, which means that it was dropped there before it rained. If someone dropped it after the rain, then only the bottom of the locket would be covered with dirt." He held it up for Diana to see. "Your murder plan was nearly perfect, and I assume you spent a lot of time forming this plan. But you were careless. We can easily find whose locket this is by testing for fingerprints, and I can bet that we'll find your fingerprint all over it."

Diana stood there, wordless, for at least a minute. Then, she started snickering. As Joe stared, she took off the buttons on her shirt one by one. About halfway down, she pulled the shirt open and revealed a large scar at the center of her chest.

The scar took Joe's breath away. It was not like a scar that a normal person would get. It seemed like someone had stabbed there, right where her heart was.

"You don't need to think hard to figure out what this wound could have easily ended my life. Do you know something else interesting?"

The woman's smile faded, and her face distorted into a hideous glare of great hatred.

"The person who gave me this scar…is Diana Windham!"

* * *

_**Postscript:**_** What happened to "Diana"? And what happened to the REAL Diana? Why did Diana end up stabbing "Diana"? Why the heck are there two "Dianas" in the first place?? Oh, and what will happen to Mr. Drew? Answers to these and many more questions can be found in the next chapter: **

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_Pourquoi?_

**_Why?_**


	25. Pourquoi?

_**Foreword:**_ Hi all! I'm quite surprised at the makeover FanFiction went through, but I like it, since it looks much cooler than before.

So, I'm temporarily back from my loooooooong hiatus, and here is the twenty-fifth chapter of the story. I just realized, the story I write is kinda like the British way of counting the floors. The first floor (in US) is ground floor (in UK), and second floor (in US) is first floor (in UK) and so on. I find it really interesting. :-)

Only one more chapter to go, people! And thanks for reading my story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_Pourquoi?_

_**Why?**_

Carson Drew looked up at a streak of moonlight that leaked through the thick leaves of the trees, which almost completely blocked the window.

"I can't waste a minute," he muttered to himself, feeling his pulse quicken and his head beginning to spin from the slowed circulation of blood in his wrists.

"He didn't have to tie me up _this_ tightly," he grunted as he felt the rope cutting deeper into his skin.

The place was completely quiet—too quiet to be in downtown River Heights. This meant he must be at least a thirty minute's drive from the center of the city, where the police headquarter was located.

But he couldn't count on it. The road was not the most crowded, since it was long after Rush Hour, and the streets were nearly empty, especially in the rural area. Wishing that his captor would not drive past the speed limit—which he doubted because getting caught driving over the speed limit would delay his murder plot even more—Carson calculated that he had less than twenty minutes to do something about the current situation.

Carson sighed. "I'm too old for such a thing," he muttered. Remembering that this was a warehouse, he turned his neck as far as he could to take a look at his surroundings.

There were many wooden boxes, up to five of them stacked on top of one another. The side of each box was around one yard. The boxes were apparently separated into different manufacturers.

Carson squinted slightly and noticed that there were also a few oil drums located behind the boxes. Whether there was oil in any of them he did not know, but he suspected that they were all full.

The rope that bound his wrists was beginning to cut into his skin. Carson grunted as he felt blood oozing from the wound. But suddenly, he realized that rope would too thin for it to cut his wrists. Also, it was slippery, albeit not slippery enough for him to free his sore wrists. Using his fingers, he felt the object. It was twine, and it was covered with oil.

Carson grinned. "So, you're planning to burn my rope as soon as this place explodes. That way, when my body is discovered, there would be no trace of his being immobilized, so the police would think that this was either suicide or an accident, never a murder.

The man closed his eyes and thought desperately. There had to be a way out of this warehouse. The only thing he needed was time to think, but he knew that he was not given a lot of it. He felt the twine with his fingers again.

"If only I had something sharp…"

He reached for his pocket and took out his wallet, but the credit card helped little to free his wrists. Carson sighed and looked at his legs which were stretched in front of him but tied together, like his wrists. All he could do was to move his legs up and down, not much more in terms of maneuvering. He thought about kicking something in front of him, but he found his legs too short to reach any of the boxes in front of him; they were at least five yards away.

Carson brought his feet under his thighs and used all his leg power to stand up. Slowly, he rotated his body ninety-degrees, centering on the pole, and looked at his surrounding from that position. There, he saw nothing new; more and more boxes lay in front of him, all too far for his feet to reach.

Rotating another ninety degrees, the attorney noticed that there was one wooden box that was within his reach, and on it was the inscription: "Smith's Glassware."

Carson sat down again and used all his strength to break open the box. From its weight, he knew that it contained something, but he could not be sure what it contained unless he opened it. After he succeeded in prying open the lid, the man looked inside and saw a few plates stuffed tightly together at the bottom.

The man immediately tipped the box. The plates rolled outside, landing just a few feet from Carson's feet. With all his strength left in him, the attorney broke the plate with his heel and moved the sharpest piece toward him. With the other foot, he kicked the piece back to his hands, and he rubbed it against the twine.

"Come on…" he muttered, his breathing rough. "Come on…"

* * *

The wind blew even harsher than before as Joe and "Diana" stood there, facing each other and studying each other's expression.

"What did you say?" Joe asked, his expression unchanged. But he was clearly shocked to hear what "Diana" said just earlier.

"Diana" smiled. "Oh, you didn't hear it clearly? Diana gave me this wound. You see, it was her full intention to kill me."

Joe gripped his fist harder than before. "Do you really mean that? Why on earth would Diana do such a thing to you?"

The imposter laughed loudly, her laughter as sharp as knife. "Wow, you really think that your childhood friend was an angel?"

As the sun began to set, the woman sighed. "My real name is Annette Lafleur. You know what this means, right?"

Joe nodded. "I remember what you said; Annette was the name that Diana used after she was put in the witness protection program and transferred to France."

The woman nodded, the smile on her face slowly spreading across her countenance.

"_Mon Dieu!_ You sure do have a good memory," she said, amused and chuckling.

"I'm a detective, after all," Joe replied, his face as stern as always. "But I'm more interested in what drove you to kill so many people. What happened to the real Diana? Why are you acting as her when you're a complete stranger?"

Annette raised her head to the sky and heaved another heavy sigh. "Diana and I worked in the same office before," she began, "and we became best friends because we had the same name and looked a lot like each other. When standing side by side, you couldn't even tell the difference!" She chuckled. "Strange, huh?"

Joe remained silent.

"I'm not sure how Diana met Martin Rousseau, but they started dining together and acting like lovers. As her best friend at that time, I couldn't have been happier for her, since the man was handsome, muscular, and elite. Who could deny that? After all, he was a designer famous enough to have his own shop in the Champs-Élysées.

"That was about three years ago. Everything was going smoothly then; Diana and I were best friends, and Martin was the nicest guy I could find on the planet. We were closer than most people would think, and I thought our bond would never be torn apart.

"Now that I think of it, I was being naïve. All relationship is bound to end in tragedy, and ours wasn't an exception."

A teardrop rolled down the girl's cheek.

"Three years ago, we planned to take a break from work and go to Wickford Castle, a famous ski resort in Wisconsin. The scenery was magnificent, and the hotel itself was glamorous. I could not think of a time that was happier than this.

"But Martin ruined everything when he accidentally swerved off the road while driving the car."

As Joe watched, the woman raised her hands to her head and covered her ears. Her face distorted into an expression filled with pain and agony, Annette screamed the next sentence as though her life was on the line.

"AND HE KILLED HER!"

"Who?" asked Joe.

"I don't know," Annette admitted, her voice calming down somewhat. "There was a woman walking toward the cabin, but Martin did not see her. When he did, it was too late. She was lying there on the ground with a pool of blood around her head, and we just stood there by the car, not knowing what to do."

"Why didn't you call the police or the ambulance?"

"I tried to!" shouted Annette "But Diana and Martin both stopped me from doing so. They were both afraid of going to jail and lose the opportunity to earn a reputation in the fashion world. Martin had just been introduced in the magazine as the Number One Aspiring Designer of the Year in a famous fashion magazine, and he was bound to be famous. I was forced to cooperate with them, and they threatened to harm me if I ever told anyone about what happened. Fortunately for them, there was no witness, and the police never got their hands on those murderers."

Joe kept silent, his face grim. "But…why did Diana give you that wound?" he asked, pointing to the scar on Annette's chest.

Annette gritted her teeth. "It was all her fault… Diana Windham was the one who ruined my life, and I ended up killing four people and disguise myself as her in order to take revenge and destroy everything she had!"

At this exclamation, Joe widened his eyes. "Wait… the victims were Renee, Martin, and Dr. Devereux. Who is the fourth person?" He waited for her reply, but he already had an answer in his mind. Although he wanted to make sure this was true, he did not think that he could bare the cruel reality that might strike. Nevertheless, he waited patiently, feeling the breeze brush against his blond hair and back into the forest.

Annette slowly turned her head to Joe and showed her wicked grin once again, the grin of a crazed killer. When she opened her mouth again, the words that Joe had always dreaded to hear came from inside: "Who else? It was Diana Windham."

A long, dreadful silence followed. Joe's stern expression stared into Annette's eyes, which stared back with icy emptiness.

"Did she…try to kill you?" asked Joe.

Annette touched her chest and closed her eyes. "Even though I received plenty of money from Martin as a fee to keep my mouth shut, I could not bear the guilt of keeping such secrets in my heart. One day, I decided to go to the police and tell them everything I knew, so I went to Martin's house to tell him that. However, he was not in his home, but Diana was. After I told her what was in my mind, she tried hard to persuade me to consider otherwise. She said she would double the amount of money they already paid me, but I refused all her offers. Then, when she went back to the kitchen after heaving a sigh, I thought she already gave up.

"When she came back, Diana was holding a knife in her hand, and she lunged toward me. She tried to stab me with her knife, but I managed to dodge it before she stabbed too deeply into my chest. Then, with the same knife with which she tried to kill me, I killed her."

Joe's eyes remained opened widely. "That…can't be," he muttered incredulously. "Diana…tried to kill you?"

Annette's gaze turned into a glare again. "I plotted revenge even after she was dead. I stabbed her so many times I couldn't even tell who she was when I was done. After I buried her body in the nearby forest, I went to have my face redone to completely resemble Diana in order to ruin everything she ever had in her life. The operation went so well even her dumb boyfriend Martin didn't know that I was someone else."

Joe could not find any word to say to this woman in front of him. He even felt a slight fear at seeing Annette's endless hatred toward Diana. She did not only take Diana's life, but she took Diana's identity and tried to kill Diana from society.

"I killed Devereux because I knew he would be the first person Diana would kill if she were alive, since he killed her father. I figured that if the police had enough time and enough help from you and your detective buddies, they would eventually arrive to the conclusion that 'Diana Windham' committed these murders."

"So…you were planning to get caught in the first place?" he asked.

Annette smiled. "That's why I went to you, Joe Hardy. I searched through all the data on Diana's life and finally found you, the person who could play the detective in this little game that I made. But I didn't expect you to figure out that I wasn't Diana. I'll congratulate you on that."

The detective grimaced. "Why did you kill Renee and Martin, then?"

"To tell you the truth, I could care less about Renee, since she had nothing to do with me. But Martin hated her with passion, so I decided to use him to make this murder mystery more interesting." She chuckled. "And it worked, didn't it? You were trying so hard to find someone who was strong enough to pull the little trick you thought of that you forgot the possibility that the victim would also be a killer."

Joe remained quiet.

"As for Martin, I had to kill him because he was the cause of all my troubles. If he didn't kill the woman, none of this could have happened."

After a long silence, Joe opened his mouth. "I admit, Annette, that you're very smart. You came up with this plot, and you fooled everyone…" He raised his gaze to Annette, and it was filled with sadness. "But are you satisfied at any of this?"

Annette stopped smiling.

"Are you really happy that you killed people who had nothing to do with your life? Are you really satisfied to lose your true identity and constantly wear a disguise as the woman you despise the most?" He sighed, his voice trembling slightly. "Are you really _you_?"

The woman looked at Joe, her eyes round with surprise.

"The real reason I loved Diana Windham was because she was the first one who truly found me. She was the one who gave me the goal and identity that I currently have. She told me that I could be a great detective, and here I am, trying my best to live up to her expectations. I kept my end of the promise, but she couldn't."

Joe clenched his fist and punched the nearby wall. The loud thud echoed inside the empty hotel.

"I don't know how you feel because I've never experienced what you went through. But I know that you lost yourself in your never-ending plan to destroy everything about Diana from the world. You destroyed her reputation, her identity, her life… And you destroyed your own as well… How can you bear the pain, Annette?"

Annette kept staring at Joe, but she suddenly began to chuckle. Then, her chuckle grew into a hysterical laughter as she kept laughing until tears drenched her cheeks. When she finished laughing, her face no longer held the cool expression that it always had. Now, it was distorted into the expression of grief and sorrow. Wiping her cheeks, Annette said nothing as she turned her back to Joe…and ran to the staircase. Within seconds, she was up on the second floor.

"Annette!" Joe shouted as he got up from the chair. He was almost at the bottom of the staircase when he saw a bright flash.

* * *

"Why did he come here by himself?" Frank murmured, irritated. "Why didn't my stupid little brother discuss with us first?" The detectives were on Frank's car, heading toward the hotel to which Frank deduced Joe went.

Nancy smiled. "I'm sure he wanted to find out for himself the truth. After all, nobody would want to believe it when a loved one turns out to be a serial killer."

"Hey, look!" George shouted, pointing toward a place far ahead in the horizon. "What's that?"

Nancy squinted and saw smoke rising from a single point in the distance. "Wait… Isn't that where Mr. Charlock's hotel is?"

Bess gasped. "Oh, my god! Is it on fire!?"

Frank bit his lip as he stepped on the gas pedal. The car increased its speed as it headed toward the destination that was now burning down in a pillar of smoke.


End file.
